The History Books Forgot about Us
by starksands
Summary: "Alex feels stunned, like she has physically turned off his ability to function. She had only ever done that once before, and that was for an entirely different reason." Or, more accurately, the many rewrites of Emma Woodhouse and Alex Knightley's first kiss. Series of one-shots. Based in the Emma Approved Universe.
1. Of course I do

**A/N:** I have no idea where this came from but it happened and I don't entirely hate it. May be full of spelling errors and other errors because I have no idea what it's like to run a business. But hopefully it is enjoyable none the less. And I think I'm required to say that I own nothing, except for Robert Hunters and I'm not exactly bragging about that.

And again, this is the Emma Approved Universe. This is in no way following the novel Emma, I apologize.

* * *

_Sometimes, people surprise you._

Alex Knightley had been organizing the different teas in the office kitchen for the last half hour. This kind of thing seemed to be happening to him more frequently of late. He would walk into a place without plan or intent and suddenly find something that needed fixing; like the disorganized tea packets he had found strewn around the kitchen counter. He's beginning to wonder if this attention to detail is a symptom of spending too much time with Emma.

As he placed the last organic peppermint tea packet in its jar, and realized that he was in fact out of excuses, he remembered what was waiting for him back at his desk. The expenditures from Emma's last "client" had been steeper than usual and it was up to him to balance out the accounts to make sure that they hadn't actually lost more than they had gained. It seemed a silly thing to even think about given that Emma's last client, a bank office manager looking for a "confidence boost", had repaid Emma both in lavish gifts and in sizable cheques.

Alex distinctly remembers rolling his eyes at most of these "gifts", but Emma, never one to cite anything but herself, had been happy to point out that there was nothing in their company policy to prevent "Robert" (the most annoying and self-centred of all bank office managers, Alex was certain of it) from purchasing her gifts as a method of payment. Thankfully, these "gifts" (who buys a life-coach a $300 watch with constellations instilled in rhinestones?) didn't stop Robert from paying what he owed them.

If he was being honest with himself, Alex would probably also admit that it was nice that the gifts didn't propel Emma to accept Robert's (decidedly inappropriate) offer of replacing their final "meeting" with an official date. Alex could say a lot of things about Emma, but even he knew she could never be bought.

The more he thought about it, the more Alex realized that, yes he needed to return to his work in order to finish tying up any lose ends, but he also needed to have a proper look at that policy. Particularly on how to change the "no gifts" section; he wasn't really sure how he would react if one of their next clients decided to purchase Emma a sports car, or something of that nature.

Groaning at the thought, Alex made the short trek from the kitchen to his office to find that it wasn't as empty as he had left it. Emma was sitting (quite obnoxiously) in his office chair reading something on his laptop with nothing short of absolute fascination.

Knowing that nothing Emma could find fascinating could be good for him, he sarcastically knocked on his own door to divert her attention from his laptop screen.

Surprisingly, she jumped a little and when her eyes caught his, she may have even blushed. Despite his earlier upset, he found a smile trying to sneak his way on his lips as he greeted her with, "Whatchu doing?"

Seeming to compose herself into her usual Emma-Woodhouse-state, Alex's business partner straightened in his chair and return her attention to the screen as he approached her:

"Looking over some of the figures from our last client."

"You do realize that that constitutes as the, what's that charming phrase of yours? Ah yes, the boring stuff," by now Alex was standing behind her, observing his laptop screen from behind her shoulder. She did in fact have many of his spreadsheets open as well as some tabs open with their banking information. He felt himself relax a bit against the back of his chair.

"Usually, yes. This time…still boring-ish," she replied, dropping the ish so that Knightley barely caught it. She then removed her hands from the keyboard and picked up Robert Hunters' file.

"You even figured out how my filing system works, look at you," he joked as he leaned back against one of his bookshelves, taking in the sight of Emma looking determined at something other than a new project.

"Haha," she said sarcastically without looking up at him, "I particularly liked all of your extra notes in the margins here." At that, she turned to face him with a list in hand of Robert's gifts, in which Alex had been much more liberal about his feelings than he ever was to Emma's face.

Now, naturally, it was Alex's turn to blush as he remembered what he had pressed harshly into that paper with a red ballpoint pen whenever Robert came over to visit the office. "He was getting a bit excessive, I mean how many times are you going to use that foot rub machine?"

Emma had already turned back around and held up her hand as if to shut him up, "I've already had plenty of your commentary, thank you. Though this one was my personal favourite," she cleared her throat before dropping into a terrible impression of Alex, "'what exactly will he buy her next? A puppy? Does he expect her to keep the puppy around the office? Will he brainwash the puppy in order to convince her to go out with him? Does he think that's how puppies work?!' and then the little gem you added underneath, I'm guessing a little while later 'God please let no one ever buy Emma a puppy,' which was frankly pretty rude because maybe I _would_ like a puppy Alex. Maybe it really would have convinced me to date a bank office manager named Robert Hunters!" At which point, Emma's serious face faltered and she burst into a spout of laughter.

Alex found himself laughing through his still burning cheeks, mostly because Emma was laughing and that was often infectious. Through his laughter, though, he ran his hands down his face at the memory of writing those down whenever he got especially angry at some comment or action of Robert's. He hadn't realized how childish the man had made him until someone read that commentary back to him. And, naturally, that person had to be Emma.

The women in question eventually stopped laughing, though a few chuckles still rocked her shoulders as far as Alex could tell, but she continued talking. "I've got to say Mr. Knightley, if I knew you were half this much fun when you did your boring stuff, I might actually have spent more time in this office," she gestured quickly around herself while still chuckling slightly.

"Yeah, well, the door's always open, Emma. Though, admittedly, the comedy is not always at its peak," he spoke plainly but when she turned around to look at him, he found himself smiling to mirror hers.

"So what are you doing here, besides ridiculing me?"

"I wasn't ridiculing you!" he raised an eyebrow, "okay a bit, you're an easy target, but I completely agree with you about Robert. There are some people who will just never be Emma Approved no matter how hard I work," she paused while looking out into the distance for a minute. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Emma. You. In my office. Why?"

"Rushing me is not Emma Approved either, Alex," she muttered, as she turned herself back to face the laptop. "I was just checking to see that everything was okay with the accounts after that client."

Alex found himself raising an eyebrow as he placed his hands on his desk and looked at Emma, "You were…checking up on me?"

Emma's eyes met his, but there was nothing other than confusion there, "The business, Alex. I was checking up on the business."

"Oh."

"Am I not allowed to care what happens with my business?"

"Our business."

"Exaclty!" she responded, clapping her hands as if she'd just achieved exactly what she set out to do. "If it's our business, and you care about the boring stuff, I occasionally have to care about it too. It's like whenever you tell me to cut Harriet some slack or help those client over the phone. If you get your hands in on my half, I get my hands in on yours."

She says all of this as though it is all matter of fact, but Alex knows how to recognize the use of Emma logic when he sees it so he just shakes his head and lets her continue.

"So, how exactly is that going for you?"

"Hmm, well I'm not really seeing much that would make or break the company," Emma logic for '_I have no idea what any of this means_', "And the lights are still on so clearly we aren't broke" Emma logic for '_I don't want to compliment you on your abilities but I'm glad I don't have to ask my father for help again_' "But everything looks good, honestly. You have a good handle on this, Alex," Emma logic for '_…?_'

"Wait, what did you just say?"

Emma turned to look at him again with that same confusion in her eyes, "I said, you've got a good handle on this. Why?"

Alex feels stunned, like she has physically turned off his ability to function. She had only ever done that once before, and that was for an entirely different reason.

Then it had been a gut reaction to seeing her look like…well not Emma. Not the Emma he knew since childhood and who used to step on the backs of his sneakers because she hated trailing behind him. Not the Emma who had once force-fed him red jello because she refused to accept that he liked blue jello when she liked red. Not the Emma who refused to talk to him for a whole week because he had held her artwork with peanut butter on his fingers. No, this was an Emma he had never seen before but that his friends used to talk about in high school, and then again through college. The Emma that was beautiful even in their awful school gym clothes, the Emma that was confident enough to talk to every senior who walked by even as a freshman, the Emma who convinced people to engage in charity work just with her smile. It had taken him years to see it but here, when she comes knocking on his university apartment door at four am in her pajamas with a look on her face like she just had the single greatest idea to ever happen to anyone ever, Alex realizes how he feels about. How he's always felt about her.

Back then, Emma had been confident as ever, but she had also wanted to share something with him. Now, she had surpassed sharing and now wanted to give him all the cards, just by complimenting him. He was sure it was a fluke so when his breathing returned to normal he said,

"Not used to you noticing my half of the work, that's all, didn't know you thought it was worth your time," and as he says it, he wonders if she'll take it the wrong way.

On her part, she looks a bit shocked herself as she says, "Of course I do. I'm not one to say it, but I know what you do is important and I'm thankful for it. And you."

He stares at her because he has no idea what to do. He knows this is the Emma everyone else sees, the giving girl who just wants to make people's lives better. But he rarely gets to see that part genuinely, especially when it's directed at him. His brain tries to make sense of it, but instead of reviewing the compliment, breaking it down, determining whether it's really worth getting worked up over; all he sees is Emma. Smiling Emma, laughing Emma, stubborn Emma, snarky Emma, helpful Emma, kind Emma, angry Emma, blinded-by-her-own-backwards-sense-of-duty Emma. He sees it all on replay as he looks into her eyes.

She laughs slightly under his gaze, "What?"

But he doesn't answer. He doesn't tell her that he's glad she told him about her business idea while wearing designer pajamas on his doorstep one warm fall morning. He doesn't tell her that he wanted to punch Robert Hunters in the face for buying her a watch that wasn't half as lovely as her. He doesn't tell her that he set up those phone consultations because he knows what she does is important and wants her to do it as often as possible because he loves that look of passion in her eyes.

He doesn't tell her any of this.

Because he'd rather kiss her.

And once he's done it, he realizes that saying all of those things, and all of those other truths he's kept so well hidden from her, don't feel half as good as the feeling of her kissing him back.


	2. So quiet, but so loud

**A/N:** Back again, can't believe this got any response at all! Thanks a billion, straight from the heart, I truly appreciate it. And special thanks to I promise you that for suggesting I change the summary - you were totally right and I was completely foolish so good catch.

Again, I still own nothing but the vague mentions of OCs.

**P.S.** I think the subtitle for this chapter would be "Alex keeps alcohol in the house for whenever Emma visits", and so there are a lot of mentions of alcohol. Nothing abusive but worth a mention all the same.

* * *

_Missing what's right in front of you._

His coat, which he loves dearly as it was another gift from his aunt, suddenly feels constricting. He throws it off himself like he's about to throw a tantrum, and the thought seems oddly appealing to him. Only Emma could leave him yearning to act like a six year old and pound his fists on the wooden floor.

As he plopped himself down on his couch, wrenching the tie from around his neck, he imagines what she would say if she were here. He almost feels like imitating her just to relieve the stress.

This is how Alex finds himself sitting on his leather couch, straightening his spine, and raising an eyebrow at the imaginary figure beside him. No one quite makes fun of Emma Woodhouse like her best friend, even when she wasn't around to see it.

He imagined that she would let him sigh and pout and look miserable for all of 45 seconds before saying something annoyingly idiotic like, "Was the date really _that_ bad?"

And though the words still set him slightly on edge, he feels a bit better when he hears his own awful high-pitched imitation of his friend and business partner.

"Is that really what I sound like?" two voices ask aloud at the exact same moment. Alex practically jumps out of his skin when he turns around to see Emma behind him holding a bottle of beer and a bag of potato chips. He lets his mouth fall open, gaping at what is surely an apparition brought on by his terrible dating experience.

"You look kind of like a fish when you do that. And not even one of those cute fish."

Nope, he was definitely not imagining this. Emma Woodhouse, lifestyle coach, matchmaker, and girl he had just been mocking thirty seconds earlier, was in fact, somehow, in his condo, toting around food and beverages.

Hoping for a quick recovery, Alex shot back with, "Where exactly does one find cute fish?"

Emma shrugged as she approached his couch from the far end, "The animated ones from Disney movies, the really pretty ones people document while scuba diving, attractive merpeople," she sits on the end of his couch before turning to face him. "There's beauty all over, you just have to look around once and a while, Alex!"

He audibly hears himself swallow as he stares at her, but covers it up by stating, "Well if I see an attractive merman, I will make a point to ask him how to properly react to a friend breaking into your condo at night so that I look less awful next time."

She's rolling her eyes at him again; she's always rolling her eyes at him. "You told me your code when you first moved in. Did you expect me to forget it?"

"No, but I also didn't expect you to be here when I'm not," he begins shifting uncomfortably next to her.

"Ugh, stop whining. Is this what you're like when you go on dates? Because then I can definitely understand why Diane said what she did."

"What is it with you and constantly discussing my love life? It's like you get some sick thrill out of seeing me uncomf- wait what did Diane say, when did you talk to her?" he shifts closer to her without even realizing it, as though physically being close to her would help draw the answers out.

"Whoa slow down," she says, an easy smile spreading on her lips as she promptly presses the beer and chips into his lap, "It was just a quick SOS text. It's a girl thing, you wouldn't get it."

He looks down at the beer and snacks, realizing for the first time that they were both obviously for him. Emma hasn't drank beer since college and her go-to snack food is definitely not chips. Alex then expertly opens his beer (admittedly, it's a twist off; it wasn't like he was trying to impress anyone with his beer collection) and takes a quick sip. "I know what SOS means Emma, and I had no idea that your friend needed saving from our date."

"First whining, now pouting. God, you're a real catch," he takes another, larger swing of beer at that, "She was actually having a good time, honestly. _Honestly_, Alex. She just said that it was getting late and you starting doing that thing you do where you only talk about work," she scoffed.

Absorbing her words for their full meaning, Alex suddenly becomes very interested in opening his chips as he sends a silent _thank you_ to Diane. Though stating that he was rambling about "work" wasn't that far off. In truth, she had made the mistake that a lot of women in her position have made before. She had mentioned Emma, which almost never went well where Knightley was concerned.

See, this was Emma's stupid, annoying mistake that she continued to inflict on him. She always wanted to set him up with mutual friends, women they both knew, women she knew and women who knew her. Which meant that no matter how well a date was going, and this particular one with Diane had likely been the best one yet, at one point or another, his date would mention Emma and he wouldn't know how to stop himself.

He'd say something easy at first, something along the lines of "My dear friend Emma talks enough about herself, we shouldn't feed that flame any more than she already has today," at which they would both laugh. Then the laughter would die and he'd start down his slippery slope with "I remember this one time, Emma and I" or "For example, today Emma," or "It honestly drives me up the wall when she". And it would just continue to pour out of him as if all that pent up information had a mind of its own.

He used to think nothing of it; after all, Emma was involved in a big portion of his life: his family, his work, even most of his down time was spent with her doing something or other. The idea that it could be something more than that was completely foreign to him. It hit him like a freight train one evening at the end of one of his Emma-arranged dates. He had returned from the bathroom to find the bill paid and sitting on his side of the table. When he picked up the receipt, he saw in Madison's curly red script the words "Tell her!" underlined three times for good measure.

That was the day he realized that these dates were never going to get better.

Emma noticed the change immediately, of course. She once described him using the phrase "sour puss" because he had barked at her when she pulled up a picture of one of Harriet's close friends on her iPad with a single eyebrow raised. Nowadays, he only went on Emma-approved-dates when she tricked him into it.

This time with Diane had been no different. She had told him that the two of them would be catching up with an old friend. Diane had been told a very different story.

That took him back to the present as he defended, "Well your lying made that date doomed from the start and you know it," she pursed her lips at him, which was about the biggest sign of how much she'd grown since he'd know her because there was a time where that would have been her tongue sticking out. (She will deny this vehemently).

Emma groans and leans back into Knightley's couch, "Well how else was I going to get you two together again? You're refusing to take my full-proof dating advice and I'm tired of you being alone, grumpy, boring, snarky, ridicul-"

"I've caught on to your train of thought there, Emma."

"You know what I mean! You're unhappy and you won't accept my help. You know that I'm still 20/20, right?"

Alex removes his hand from the chip bag and pokes her shoulder, "Maybe I'm just the exception to the rule."

She turns to face him full on and pokes him back, "I feel inclined to tell you that I'm Emma Woodhouse and I never fail, maybe you've heard that before?"

He laughs and takes another swing of his beer, "You're impossible."

"Impossibly good," she pokes him again, clearly enjoying herself.

"Impossibly annoying," he pokes her back, more half-heartedly.

"Hey," she says, poking him to bring his eyes to hers, "Your soul mate is out there and I know I'll find her! Or him," she winks at Alex. He groans in response and puts the chip bag on the table.

"Oh Mr. Knightley, do you not remember me promising you a better life? I won't back out of that easily, you know that!"

Alex turns to look at her, seeing her usual huge smile, hands clasped together, eyes as bright as humanly possible. He remembers something he told Diane just a few hours ago. 'She's annoying as hell, Diane. But sometimes, when she's besides me and we're just there, breathing the same air, not talking, I think about how quiet my world would be without her. It would be so quiet, but so loud, you know? A silence filled with all the things, all the words and laughs and smiles, that should be there but aren't. And I know that's not what I want.'

And now he's here, sitting extremely close to her, listening to her tell him that she wants him to be happy and that she'll stop at nothing until she finds his soul mate. In all honesty, it's all very distracting and only helps to remind him that, despite drinking two glasses of wine at dinner, he didn't have nearly enough alcohol in his system for this.

"So are you staying here to dissect my dating problems or should I just get myself another beer?"

"Nope, here to stay. And while you're up, can you get me one of those bottles of spring water please?" Yes, yes Alex does in fact buy Emma's exact brand of spring water just to keep some around the house. He doesn't think about that too much because he knows if she develops a taste for Belgian chocolate in the next while he'd probably start importing that too.

Alex finishes his first beer on the way to the kitchen, pulls two more out of the fridge as soon as he gets there and drinks half of one on the spot. He returns to the lounge where Emma is with a bottle and a half of beer and her glass of spring water.

She looks up when he comes back into the room and smiles brightly as she takes the glass. Their hands brush over each other's for a second and once everything is set comfortably on the table, Alex finds himself finishing his second bottle.

He doesn't get drunk off beer easily, and Emma doesn't know that there was wine with dinner, so she doesn't question it when he opens his third bottle, besides cocking her head slightly at the display.

"Can I turn on the television?" Alex asks as he does the action anyway.

"Alex, we're supposed to be talking," he refuses to turn and look at her expression.

"Yes, I'm a terrible date and I'm sure you have a list of ways in which I can improve so read them out while I pretend to laugh at bad sitcoms."

She swats him with her hand, and he notices that after he distinctly sat in the middle of the couch rather than the end she had been occupying, she had moved closer to him to close the distance between them. Alex was genuinely afraid that he did not have enough alcohol to get through this night.

"You're not a bad date! Talking about work shows that you're passionate and have ambition. You just need to balance that with all your other great traits!"

He positively hates himself for turning to look at her with a raised brow, "You think I have great traits?"

She rolls her eyes and he thinks about all those dumb moments in movies where the guy kisses the girl to get her to stop talking. He wonders if there's an equivalent of that for eye rolling. He finishes his third beer in the same moment that thought really resonates in his head.

"What I think doesn't matter, in this one particularly instance," she says, narrowing his eyes at him, "what matters is that Diane thinks you have good traits."

Alex gets up from the couch to get another beer while throwing "Why are we back on Diane?" over his shoulder.

And naturally, because the universe is devoid of any form of hope whatsoever, Emma follows him through his condo stating "Because you two would be good together!"

He yanks the fridge door open, and searches for another beer, apparently having finished the pack with the last one. "What exactly are you basing that on?" he says to the mustard bottle as he continues to search. He hears Emma looking through one of his cupboards before her response drifts to him, "She went to school for business, she reads those awful fantasy novels you like, and she is the only person in the universe - other than you - that actually _craves_ black licorice."

Finally finding a can at the back of the fridge, Alex reaches for it slowly because he really doesn't want to have to face Emma during this conversation, no matter how many beers he's had. "So we have stuff in common, that doesn't make her my soul mate, Emma."

"No, but she listens when you talk, Alex. She likes those awful walks you go on during the fall down in New England where you just walk around looking at the leaves, and don't utter a word. She laughs when you're happy, she worries for you when you're sad. No matter what state you're in, she cares about you, isn't that worth exploring?"

For a second, she sounds a little desperate. Not in her usual, _Alex you're ruining my 20/20 reputation_ kind of desperation, but a genuine _I care about my friend's happiness_ desperation. And even though Alex escapes the fridge, opens the can, and drinks the majority of it in one gulp, he knows that no amount of alcohol is going to make it stop hurting. The fact that if he could just say three words to her, she would stop looking sorry for him. Or, at least, have a different reason to.

Instead, he shrugs. She rolls her eyes.

"Plus, she finds you attractive so I mean you've really got to choose this one." And just like that, Emma uses her ridiculous abilities to diffuse the tension, both in the room and his heart.

"So first you think I don't have any good traits and now you're saying I'm not attractive?" he questions, in mock hurt.

"I never said anything about you not having good traits," she can barely contain the laughter that's occupying her entire face at the moment. Alex decides to laugh first as he moves over to her by the pantry. When he reaches her, she lets her own giggles escape.

"Now that's just cruel," he puts a hand over his heart, "what is it? Is it the khakis again?" She's laughing harder and he loves the sound so much that he doesn't stop his teasing as quickly as he normally would.

"Or the hair," he pats his head lovingly, "please tell me it's not the hair?" She's biting her lip but the laughs are still coming and she's trying to say something but he's talking over her, quite loudly.

"It's not even like you have nice hair," he says, rolling his eyes at her mock, or perhaps real, indignation, before he twirls a lock of her hair between his fingers.

"See mine's at least one colour," he demonstrates by pulling the lock of hair up to his own scalp, bringing their faces dangerously close. "All the shades in yours, is it even brown? No, see it's just shiny. Shiny and soft," and then he's looking into her eyes with her hair between his fingers and the effects of all the alcohol in his system seem to catch up to him at once. His knees buckle and he feels like that freight train is hitting him again as he says "You're amazing."

Her eyes widen, as though she's not expecting it. Emma had taken note of the alcohol he was consuming so she'd figure he'd make some passing comment about her being pretty. But somehow, he'd surprised her. The word 'amazing' isn't even particularly special on its own, but it's the fact that he chose to see so much more than, well, as he once put it, her 'shiny hair and great teeth.' Amazing meant more than pretty or any other derivative of that word.

A beat afterwards, Alex bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking. To keep from screaming. But the words that came next seemed to force themselves out of him regardless.

"I'm going to kiss you, Emma," he says, because he thinks his mind was made up since he saw her standing in his lounge doorway with a bottle of beer in hand. In fact, he thinks his mind was made up the night he came back from his date with Madison and Emma said 'She's a smart one, isn't she?'

All can he think is _She really is, Emma, _before he's leaning in to kiss his best friend.

At first, he thinks this must be a mistake. He practically cornered the poor girl in his kitchen and told her he was going to kiss her. The first few seconds of the kiss aren't even blissful because he's waiting for her to push him away.

Then, her hands find his jacket and the small space between them shrinks even farther. The motivation is like a shot of caffeine as he moves his hands up to slip his fingers into her hair. He smiles against her lips, thinking of all the times he'd offered her backhanded compliments about her hair only to find himself in this position. He feels her mouth reciprocate the smile and he thinks he may actual short-circuit; his body isn't used to this level of happiness.

Suddenly, the warmth is gone, the smile a ghost, and Emma's face is reforming as he blinks himself into full focus.

"We can't!" she sputters, her hands still wrapped in his lapels.

He doesn't know what to say, knows if he tries talking his voice will break. So he just shakes his head.

"I can't do this, you just went on a date with Diane, this is so wrong Alex!" He waits for the shove, yearns for it because he can't imagine moving away from her of his own free will when he'd finally gotten that close. But none comes, so he just keeps absorbing her words.

"She's crazy about you and you're drunk!"

He meets her eyes then and smiles, "I'm not drunk, Emma."

"Really? Because you almost wrote poetry about the shades in my hair a few minutes ago!"

"Tipsy. Very emotional. Not drunk," at her visible protest, he continued, "I'm going to embarrass myself for five seconds so listen carefully when I say you smell fantastic and you look great and I am generally not this close to you so you add even a drop of alcohol to that mix and I'm surprised I can even speak at all."

Oddly enough, it was a wide-eyed Emma who was speechless at that.

"As for Diane, she knows. Every girl you've ever set me up with knows. Most of them try to set me up with you," he runs a hand down his face as those, rather embarrassing, memories resurface. "My point is, I don't want to hurt anyone either, but I know how I feel about you. And if you care about me, and Diane, I'm sure you can find her someone better suited for all _her_ incredible traits."

Emma takes a deep breath before, unexpectedly, pressing her forehead to his. "So work," she asks, "work is what?"

He tries to look at her confused, which is hard with their faces so close, before it clicks in his head. "When I talk about work, I talk about you. You, you're work, it's actually a pretty good cover," he chuckles slightly and Emma offers a soft smile.

"That explains _a lot_ of text messages," she replies with a sigh, and he chuckles harder until she's laughing with him.

She lifts her forehead off his and studies him for a minute. Worried about her scrutiny, he asks "So, can we try?"

She makes a face as though she's trying to solve a really hard problem. And seems to find the solution by kissing him again, which is really fine by him.

It's later on, when Emma's asleep on his shoulder as the tv continues to blare obnoxious sitcoms, that Alex amends something he said to Diane. He still doesn't like the silence of a life without Emma, but he has a new silence to appreciate. The perfect sound of absolutely nothing when his lips meet Emma's and everything else fades away.

* * *

Hope this soothes the pain left by episode 18, because that was just cruel...


	3. I'm not going anywhere

**A/N:** How great was episode 20 though? I'm still having emotions about it, my goodness. The writing just flowed this week, and I am so proud of it!

Back to the fic, so the reviews so far have been amazing, thank you again! To f. wentworth, I have no idea if HAAEKY has found this fic but that'd be awesome if they did; I'm a big fan of their blog. To JRB, I literally had to cover my heart at your comment - thank you! I'm glad you can see the fics playing out in canon, that's the ultimate compliment. And for all of you hoping for some Emma POV, look no further!

Okay, so I apparently don't know how to write Emma's POV without angst ensuing so that's exactly what this is, thankfully with some pure fluff near the end. To be honest, I'm not _entirely_ happy with this chapter but, at the same time, I am very happy with it and I can't bring myself to not post it. So I'm going with my gut and I hope you can give it a chance too.

Still don't own a thing, especially those pesky spelling mistakes.

* * *

_It's not weakness, it's strength._

She opens the door to find Alex standing there, looking back at his car as though admiring it, before turning to face her. His eyes flash with concern as he demands, "What happened?"

Emma feels so nauseous and confused that rather than responding, she tugs at his hand and pulls him into her condo. Even though she's glad he's there, surprised as she was that he answered a vague text so promptly, she can't stop herself for going over and over what she's about to ask him.

"You're really starting to worry me, Emma. And not in your usual _Alex, I spent the company's budget on a really nice new pair of shoes_ kind of way," he tries for a smile at this to show that he's teasing, but Emma knows he feels the tension in the air too.

It doesn't help the tension much that Emma stays quiet after this.

And, for probably one of the only times in their entire relationship, Alex breaks the silence first.

"Okay, seriously. Am I going to have to call Annie to explain your current state or will you just let me in on whatever's bothering you?"

Emma stills herself with a deep breath, she hadn't realize she was shaking, before stating, with as much confidence as she can muster, "I want you to sleep with me."

Alex blinks. He looks like his brain has fully registered her words and then rejected them in the same nanosecond. The silence is deafening.

"Yup, I'm calling Annie," he says, turning away from her and walking towards the kitchen. She grabs his arm as he frantically searches for Annie's number in his phone.

"Why are you being so weird about this? It's not like I haven't asked you for a favour before…"

He narrows his eyes at her while letting his jaw fall limp and his head cock to the side to give her his patented _What the hell is wrong with you Emma Woodhouse _face. "Are you hearing yourself?"

"Perfectly well, thank you," Emma doesn't know when her confidence came back but she's enjoying exerting it again.

"Emma, you're…I'm…we're…this is weird, this is so god awfully weird!"

She rolls her eyes and uses the hand already on his arm to pull him into her kitchen, plopping him down on one of her bar stools. Standing directly in front of him she realizes that she's taller than him right now, if only by a small amount. Alex is staring down at his shoes and mumbling more incoherent things about this being weird.

"Alex!" the shout she wishes she could muster turns into a groan of annoyance. He doesn't look up at her to answer, his voice just above a whisper, "I'm not doing it, Emma."

"Why? No feelings involved, pretend it never happened, move forward with your life with a little spring in your step, everybody wins."

Alex turns his head up to look at her and she realizes she has no desire to meet his eyes just then. In fact, she could really use a glass of water. Or, comparatively, something stronger. Before she can even turn to examine her collection of beverages, she feels Alex's hands on her waist.

"No feelings involved? You really expect me to believe the great Emma Woodhouse, matchmaker extraordinaire, doesn't see what's going on here?" He doesn't sound smug, or even his usual snarky self. He just seems…sad?

Emma ignores this, and the feeling of his hands still holding her place, when she says, "Purely physical, that's the beauty of it, Mr. Knightley!" but she still can't meet his eyes.

"Why…why are you doing this to me?" he asked, sounding as exasperated as she felt a few hours ago. As she's been feeling for too long.

"I'm doing this for me, Alex, you're just reaping the rewards," she says, with a forced laugh and a painful wink to boot. Why does he have to look so upset about this? Is the prospect of sleeping with her that bad?

"I don't…I don't want to…to sleep with you, Emma," he says, talking to his arms rather than her face. "Not like this."

Her confusion only gets worse. Why is he making this about him when she is the one falling apart?

"I wasn't suggesting we 'get busy' in my kitchen, Alex. You can choose the location if it makes you feel better."

He laughs at that. And, for a brief, idiotic moment, Emma thinks they can actually go through with this. Then he says something she doesn't quite make out.

"What?" she asks.

"I said, I don't know if this is a joke and I don't know if I want it to be," he sighs, "well, I mean, I embellished that version a bit but that's pretty much what I meant."

"It's not a joke, why would you want it to be a joke?"

He's still staring down at his arms intently with an expression that can best be described as painful concentration. Then, he removes his hands from around her waist and she thinks he's just going to leave her like this, when out of nowhere, he kisses her.

Thinking of this as her out, Emma smiles triumphantly, though she doesn't feel as great about this as she thought she could convince herself to be. And it mostly has to do with the fact that Alex isn't kissing her like he plans to take her to bed, but like he wants to never stop kissing her. Upon that realization, Emma finds it hard to breathe and pushes him off.

"What the hell?"

Alex is standing now, his jacket half on half off from where she tried to pull it off him. He looks so broken and Emma wants to hit him because she remembers that expression from looking in the mirror a few hours ago. So she hits him, hard in the shoulder.

He doesn't react.

"What the hell?" She repeats, this time quieter, as if to herself.

"Why do you want to sleep with me?" he asks, no longer afraid to meet her eyes, preferring to stare profoundly into them. She takes this as her own cue to become interested in anything else other than him.

"I told you, it's all phys-"

"Just tell me the truth, Emma," his voice isn't harsh. It just sounds kind of hollow. _That isn't Alex_, she thinks, _Alex doesn't sound like that._

Turning on her heel, Emma leaves the kitchen slowly, before turning a corner and sitting on the stairs going up to the second level. Alex joins her shortly after, looking very much like the big brother she had once thought of him as. Had she really thought sleeping with him would be easy?

When he first finds her on the staircase, he looks like he's considering staying where he is, in the kitchen's doorframe, a few steps away from her. But shortly after, he seems to dismiss this and takes a seat on the stair next to her.

They sit in silence for a minute before he rocks to the left and hits her shoulder with his own.

"He said I didn't get it." Alex turns to look at her, waiting for her to continue. When she doesn't, his face turns quizzical and he prompts, "Who said you didn't get what?"

She sighs, like this was exactly what she wanted to avoid, which it was. But she responds honestly, nonetheless, "Evan, Evan James. He says I don't get any of this relationship stuff."

Alex looks like he wants to laugh when their eyes meet. He thinks she's kidding, she realizes. Or, alternatively, over-reacting. She moves to get up off the stair but his hand lies on top of hers and his eyes are telling her to continue.

"He says I've never been a _serious_ relationship so how would I know the complexities of one. How could I know how it feels to experience that pain, that longing? How could I pretend for a second to understand him?"

She sounds like she wants to cry. _That's not me_, she thinks, _that's not what I sound like._

"And he's right! I give everything that I have to the people I care about and I've never woken up and realized that I don't have the very thing I want so desperately for everyone else. I thought I was so above that; like it would happen when the circumstances were right. But what if I just go through life and end up without it? I'll be alone."

She's not crying, not really. She can feel her pulse in her head and the pressure behind her eyes, but her cheeks are dry. It makes her feel even more detached.

"You won't," Alex says, and then he cuts off her bitter laugh by pressing his lips to hers again. And even though it's the exact opposite of it, she feels like she's breathing for the first time in a while. He's kissing her slowly, like every millisecond is relevant to the overall kiss, and his hand moves to the side of her face and she feels like crying for a whole different reason.

When he pulls back, he's smiling. She feels herself smiling too. But the words creep back into her head.

"Are you taking pity on me, Mr. Knightley?" she asks, trying to sound teasing, but sounding more sad than anything else.

Alex is looking into her eyes, and his mouth falls into a half-smirk when he responds with his own question, "You really don't know?"

She sniffles, even though she still hasn't managed to cry, and shakes her head stating "Know what?"

His half-smirk turns into a full one, "So the great Emma Woodhouse doesn't know that boring Mr. Knightley has a crush on her, eh? Aren't you, like, the love expert?"

She closes her eyes because she wants him to take the words back. Not the teasing insult, but…the other words. The words that mean her asking him what she did was completely callous and wrong. The words that mean she's been neglecting her best friend for the past…however long it's been. She wants him to take it all back but all she manages to get out is "I'm so sorry."

He laughs, a full laugh that makes his eyes get bright, before turning back to her "It is pretty terrible sometimes. See, she doesn't know and he's been trying terribly hard to hide it. Which means he doesn't get to tell her as often as he'd like how beautiful she is," her eyes raise to meet his and she honestly thinks she is crying now. "Or how smart and ambitious she is, how amazing it is to see her never give up, how great it is that she wants to make the world a better place. And even now, when she knows all this and he's pouring his heart out to her like a bad romantic comedy, she still looks at him like she doesn't understand it. Like she doesn't see what he sees."

Now, Emma Woodhouse is not, by any stretch of the imagination, insecure. She thinks insecurity is a road block to success and has therefore never had time for it. But she knows Alex is telling the truth about the way she looks at him. But it's not that they don't see the same qualities in her, it's more that she doesn't understand how he sees her that way. She knows she's always tried to be smart, ambitious, stubborn, giving, and whatever else, but he never seemed to care much about that before. Her head starts hurting from all the confusion and she only manages, "I'm really sorry, Alex."

There's a silence in which the laughter drains from Alex's eyes and he just looks at her, like he's seeing her for the first time. "Why did what that guy say bother you so much? How do you even know him?"

Emma wished he would just kiss her again, and make her forget about this topic. But, he'd bared everything out in the open; she owed him something.

"One of those phone consultations you set up for me. Evan James, 34, single father, didn't know how to get back in the dating game," she drones out the facts she knows he doesn't remember. For Knightley, there were always too many names, too many stories. He likes his world in number order, he lets the minor details stray by the wayside. Except for, apparently, when it came to her.

"We talked and I thought, I don't know, it's been 8 years since his wife died and he was calling me after all and his profile said that he was very open and was looking for a new commitment but apparently I read the situation wrong and I don't do that Alex! I just don't do that!" She's no longer certain of her tone of voice, of the volume of it. She only knows that she's crying harder.

Alex moves his hand to wipe the tears off of her face. Emma wonders when she started being so hard on herself. And when she started being oblivious to Alex's total look of concentration when he looks at her; like she's the only thing in the world.

She kisses him again because she needs to catch her breath. His hand is still on her face and she finishes the kiss feeling worse than before.

"You were never meant to be perfect, Emma," he says it like he means it and the pain in her gut gets worse.

"But I wanted to be perfect at this," was all she could offer in response.

More silence, punctuated by the sound of Knightley breathing beside her. The feeling of his fingertips on her arm whenever he hears her sniffle.

"Why did you want to sleep with me?" he breaks the silence without turning to face her. If she were herself, Emma would joke about him sounding eager. But the tears on her face remind her that she's not herself right now.

"I thought…I thought it would make me feel less empty. I thought that maybe I could get out of my head for an hour and stop thinking about how much those words…weigh on me."

His fingers are moving up and down her arm again when he says, "You could always try yoga next time, though I suppose that is more costly."

And she's laughing. Laughing like she wasn't crying a few seconds ago. Laughing like Emma, normal Emma. Emma approved Emma.

"I hardly think I'm flexible enough for yoga, sadly," she's leaning her head on Knightley's shoulder and she feels herself shaking but knows it's from laughter, not tears.

"Well, by all accounts, you'd hardly be prepared to sleep with _me_ then," and she's laughing harder; she worries she might fall off the stairs.

"Hey, I'm only suggest-" but his next joke is cut off by her kissing him, her smile pressed against his.

It's over too soon for either of their liking, but Emma feels inclined to say, "If you make me laugh one more time Alexander Knightley, I will do worse to you than that."

He raises both eyebrows, "There's such a thing _worse_ than kissing you?"

She pokes him in the ribcage. He retaliates by tickling her. She's laughing more and he's kissing her from her collarbone to her lips. When he reaches them, Emma moves her now free arms to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to her. He's deepening the kiss and lifting her off the stairs and she's smiling to let him know she's still laughing internally.

When they break apart, she's winded but he somehow manages a, "Yes, that was infinitely worse than simply kissing you, Miss Woodhouse," and she doesn't think it's possible to smile brighter than she is right now. How'd did this happen? How could she go from where she was to here, just because Knightley knows how to make her laugh? Knows the exact right moments to let her talk and when to help her breathe?

She realizes that she's still upset at herself for texting him for such a ridiculous plan of hers. But she's also never been happier that he texted her back. And showed up at her door. And kissed her to remind her she isn't alone.

Mind returning to normal after the realizations and the kissing, she sees him straighten his jacket and then notices that he had lifted her back over to the front door.

"You're leaving?"

He looks up and smiles when he sees her longing expression, "Yeah. I don't want to," he adds, as he moves over to interlock their hands, "but, you need to figure some things out. About you. About us. And I can't be objective about those things, plus I've proven myself to be a world-class distraction," he winks at her. Emma swears that's the first time she's seen him do that without sarcasm. When did their roles become so awkwardly reversed?

"And Monday?" she asks, because she knows if he's saying this now, she probably won't see him all weekend.

He takes the extra step to press a kiss to her forehead, "I'm not going anywhere, either way."

And when he lets go of her hands and walks out her front door, she realizes how much she wants him to come back and spend the night talking to her. Kissing her. Holding her.

But she knows, as she'd always known since she sent him that text, that asking him to save her wasn't fair. Knowing he'd be around when she got back on her feet, however, made the challenge ahead a lot less difficult to deal with.

* * *

Will I ever be able to write Knightley not being in love with Emma first? The answer: probably not. But, especially since you guys have been asking for it, I am working on some Emma-centric fics (that are a lot better and hopefully less OOC than this one). Reviews are my oxygen, I need them to live and to keep writing!


	4. Boss's orders

**A/N:** The response for last week's chapter was so amazing, I don't know what to do. I'm so surprised and thankful that you enjoyed it (to one degree or another). Special shout-outs to JRB, those tweets almost killed me and you're too sweet to say what you did! And to f. wentworth, thank you for the constructive criticism, I agree with you on a lot of points and I hope I can improve more over time. To thoughtsthatfester, FunnyxLittlexBrains, and toffeema, your compliments make me keep writing as well!

Okay so I wrote this chapter almost right after the last one and I wrote it assuming you guys would hate chapter 3. In re-reading, I realize its not nearly as vivid as the last one but it was just meant to be something adorable to put you all at ease. Plus it has Harriet, so hopefully that balances out everything else. (I deeply apologize if my Harriet seems off, I don't seem to have a knack for writing her unfortunately.) Also, disclaimer, I wrote this before the ADORABLE Q&A between Knightley and Harriet, so their relationship in this is totally not up to date. But, c'est la vie!

Still own nada, except all the pain this ship has caused me.

* * *

_If memory serves…_

Harriet stepped into his office exactly 58 seconds after he requested she come over. He found himself sighing happily as he turned around in his chair, glad that he had made the right decision in hiring her. Well, in letting Emma approve of his hiring her. Or of playing a key role in Emma hiring her? It was all very confusing.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Knightley," she questioned hesitantly, using his formal name which was only really demanded when it was his father.

"Yes, I wanted to catch you before you went to see Emma this morning. Feel free to come in, by the way," he gestured with his hands that he wasn't going to bite her. Harriet smiled nervously, nodded her head, and took about half a step farther into his office.

Honestly, the girl worked with Emma all day long and it was Knightley she was weary of? What had he done to put her on edge? Then again, he was the only person in the world to bring her idol down from her cloud of self-righteousness so it might be a bit understandable.

Trying to ease her worries, he stands up and walks around his desk, planting himself down on one of its corners so that they are facing each other. He's also shorter in this set up and he's heard that helps others feel more confident. Well, Emma's mentioned it before.

"I really appreciate you picking up coffee for Emma in the morning every day, Harriet. I know she probably doesn't thank you enough, or reimburse you, so I wanted you to know that we, the company, are very thankful for it."

She gives him a quizzical look over her carry out tray containing her and Emma's morning beverages. Alex thinks it must be because it seems an odd thing to make a big deal out of, especially because she has been doing it since she started working there. Then, Harriet's eyes get very wide and he realizes that they are most definitely not on the same page presently.

"Oh gosh, I never thought to ask for your coffee order. Shoot! I'm so sorry Mr. Knightley, you can write it down and I'll remember to pick it up every day from now on. Actually, don't trouble yourself, just say it aloud and I'll memorize it straight away. I'm promise I'm not incompetent it was just –"

"Harriet, breathe!" he practically shouts as he sees her rearing up to throw herself under more and more piles of self-doubt. "That's not what I meant at all, I promise. Thank you for the offer, but I just take my coffee from home," he emphasizes the point by picking up his Pemberley Digital travel mug.

"Oh. Well then, you're welcome. For everything, I mean, well not everything, obviously, but for the coffee. Emma's coffee. Miss Woodhouse's daily coffee, not yours. Not that I wouldn't buy yours if you drank it, but you don't. So," she takes a deep breath, without taking her eyes off Knightley (another Emma approved trick to confidence boosting).

"So, was that everything?" she questions, in her usual, perky assistant voice.

"No, not quite," Alex replies, pressing his hands together in front of himself. "I was just wondering, what was Emma's order exactly?"

Harriet blinks, before shifting her eyes back and forth as though worried. Seeming to accept that Alex's question is innocent enough (with Emma related things, you never really know. But Emma hadn't said anything about not sharing her coffee order with anyone, so it had to be safe right?), she recited the specific order from memory.

Many ingredients later - Alex was amazed the thing actually tasted like coffee after all that stuff - he heard the one thing he was listening out for.

"Ah, fantastic," he said, with his usual dry humour, "thanks, Harriet. Would you mind if I brought Miss Woodhouse her coffee this morning? I'll still give you full credit, of course."

Harriet again looked suspicious - if Emma really did want to improve Harriet she should work on how to hide that _you're afraid your boss's business partner is about to poison her drink_ face - and replied with, "I'm not sure, Mr. Knightley. Emma's very specific about me handing her this coffee every morning."

He resists the urge to scoff. Alex wouldn't be surprised, in all honesty, if Emma got Harriet to hand her it in a specific way, saying 'Only on the left side Harriet, so I can continue writing my autobiography about how I saved the world from loneliness and despair'.

Instead of making the snarky comment, he simply says, "She won't mind for one day. You know Emma, she enjoys shaking things up from time to time. Keeps things fresh." He was actually citing her in this instance so Harriet really couldn't see any fault in it.

Nonetheless, she still did.

"I don't know, Mr. Knightley. She hasn't been quite herself lately…"

_Which is why I should be the one bringing her the coffee_, he thought. What he said was, "Well then a fresh face could do her some good," before he lightly pulled the cup from her grasp. Harriet pouted but seemed to accept that maybe she should let the two friends sort this out for themselves.

"Just please don't let her get angry with me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Alex announced, picking up his travel mug and squeezing past Harriet to approach the office kitchen. "And thank you," he stage-whispered over his shoulder when he saw Harriet's face exit his office, eyes following his movements with confusion.

When Alex entered the kitchen, he scoffed at himself for going to such lengths for a friend. Then again, had the roles been reversed, she would have done the same for him.

After he finished his business in the kitchen, he left all evidence of his actions in the garbage and headed towards his partner's office.

As usual, Alex didn't knock when he walked through Emma's door. When she looked up at the sound of his footsteps to reprimand him, because she knew it was him from his gait, her remark died in her throat when she saw him with what must have been her coffee.

Alex found himself smirking slightly as he made his best friend blush for maybe the fifth time in their entire, year-spanning, friendship. It was only a few years back, when he noticed that the amount of times she did this to him were far greater than he to her, that he began keeping score. She was still winning but at least he was catching up.

"Hello, Alex," Emma said, drawing out both words. "For what do I owe the pleasure?"

He stares at her for a second. She had been purposely avoiding him the past week, making contact mostly through Harriet, and he hadn't got a good glimpse of her in a while.

As he expected, she looked, well, among other things that opened doors he was currently choosing to ignore, tired. He didn't think most people could tell, which Emma was using to her full advantage, but Alex knew the tell-tale signs.

The nail polish on her fingers was cracked, likely from biting them coupled with being too jittery to reapply the polish. Her hair, which was in some sort of a braid, had strands missing in such a way that suggested she had either done it very quickly or had given up half-way through a style that was much more extensive. And she kept doing this weird thing with her jaw that suggested she was putting her tongue on the roof of her mouth to avoid yawning.

"The business side of things got boring so I thought I'd take a break," he says, nonchalantly, as he moves to join her on her ridiculous bench. He is happy to see that the cameras are off, just in case he says something ridiculous in the moments that are about to follow.

"A break? Alex Knightley takes breaks? I thought those were reserved for us lesser beings who don't do math for enjoyment?"

He laughs at her easy teasing, and responds with his own, "Just because some of us are capable of doing math, doesn't mean we do nothing else," she tries to hide her smile. "No, breaks are important. Plus, Harriet had to go run an errand for me so I thought I'd drop off your coffee for her."

She eyes the drink in his hands like it might actually be a disguise for the Holy Grail. Alex has never been as thankful for Emma's blind trust in people as he is when she wraps her fingers happily around the cup.

"Why is my assistant doing jobs for you?" she manages to get out after taking her first sip. He waits patiently, and then lets any remorse for what he'd done fade; she _was_ literally that tired.

"Business partners share things, Emma, now play nice," he joked, bumping his shoulder with hers. She rolls her eyes in response. "So how is that entrepreneur doing with his speech?" he asks, and Emma seems to get more tired as soon as the question is asked.

"Fine, he's fine. Everything is fine," but her normal bounciness isn't in it as she takes another sip of her drink.

"He didn't look that way the last time I saw him," Alex speculated, knowing he was adding to her stress level. "This speech is kind of the cornerstone of his entire career, his entire future."

"Yes, fully aware. That's why he's here. All the time. Every day. Always here," she sounds so exasperated he almost wants to wrap an arm around her and pull her close. But then she finishes with, "Thankfully, I'm me so that is no problem. Success is the most important thing!"

He shakes his head before seeing her downing the majority of her drink in a single gulp. "More important than sleep?" he ventures.

She blinks, moves to rub her hands under her eyes, and nods. "Sleep deprivation has been known to make people stronger, smarter even!" and this time she doesn't catch herself before she yawns.

"Yes, probably for CIA agents and Tibetan monks, not life-coaches," he says, moving closer to her, crowding her space. She yawns again, while speaking this time, and he politely asks her to repeat herself.

"What?"

"My job is just as important," she yawns, "as any other job," more yawning, "Mr. Knightley."

He moves his hand to rest on the small of her back to keep her from falling off the bench, while adding a "Mhm," under his breath.

"I'm ser-," yawning, "serious. And I need to help Calvin or," more yawning, "he won't finish his speech."

He adds a convincing "Ahh" before removing the now empty coffee cup from her hands and placing it on the desk in front of them. Now, with her hands free, Emma moves to lean on Alex's shoulder, her hand wrapping around his bicep.

"If he doesn't finish his speech," longest yawn yet, "he won't get his investors," quieter yawn, "no life improvement."

"Very true," Knightley offers, as he moves to pick her up off the bench. She doesn't resist and moves closer to his chest, her ears catching the steady drumming of his heart, which in other circumstances would have been beating much more rapidly.

"My coffee tasted funny," she seemed out of yawns now, choosing to punctuate her delivery by snuggling closer to Alex. "Did you make it in your awful, old coffee pot? I asked Harriet to order that extra shot of caffeine and I don't feel" a short pause where he's not exactly sure what she's doing, "more awake." He places her on the couch then, not failing to notice her look of utter disappointment.

"It wasn't coffee, it was herbal tea," he says, stretching his arms over his head, feeling a yawn coming on after listening to all of hers. "No caffeine, just Peach Tranquility," he chuckles at the silly name but recognizes that it lives up to it.

In response, Emma smiles a sleepy smile and mutters, "I hate you."

He laughs, remembering the last time Emma had ever had tea.

They had been out with her father, their families on vacation up north. The three of them had found a small tea shop with hundreds of different varieties, and each of them tried a different flavour. Both Alex and Emma's dad took a liking to theirs, but Emma seemed to regret hers before she even swallowed. That was the day he learned how she took her tea, since she hadn't taken even a sip since: two spoons of brown sugar. He remembered that distinctly from all their other excursions for a very simple reason: when they had been out and about looking for a place to warm up, Emma had been so cold that she demanded he give her his gloves. He scoffed at her, to which she'd replied that he either give them to her or hold her freezing hands. Needless to say, he gave her the gloves and shoved his own hands deep in his pockets as he tried, and failed, to hide a blush he attributed to the cold.

"You need to rest, my dear Emma."

"Just wake me up in an hour. No more," she said, snuggling into the couch cushions.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, "Boss's orders." She laughs at this and her breathing starts slowing down.

Smiling at his own work, Alex felt provoked and thus leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead, hoping to send her off into a calm slumber.

Not quite as far gone as he expected, he was stunned when she pulled him back down so that she could kiss his lips. He'd drank almost all of her horrible, caffeinated beverage and yet he still feels dazed by the touch of her lips.

When she releases him, she says "'Night, Alex," and is out like a light.

As he leaves, legs still shaky, he closes Emma's usually open door, hoping to send a 'Do not disturb' message to the other employees.

He still can't think straight until he finds himself retracing his steps back to the kitchen to find out just what exactly was in that tea. And pray that they have more bags of it, especially for when Emma wakes up and wonders just what the hell she had been thinking.

* * *

I'm hoping this was okay, though I'm sure you expected something different. Next week's may actually be my favourite chapter so hold out! I'm also hoping to post a Christmas themed piece (separate from this story) next week, either on or after the big day, to add to this pitiful chapter. Let me know what you thought of this one though, it'll help me write the Christmas one faster haha


	5. Telling the story

**A/N: **Your reviews were as lovely as always, thank you! To Emma fan, that's such a wonderful compliment, thank you - I always hope that these seem as believable as possible haha. To HPPhoenix07, I don't know how to not write Alex being adorable so I'm glad it's appreciated. To JRB, forehead kisses are my favourite so expect as many as I can possibly write! And all the holiday pictures were fantastic, they inspired a few of my holiday drabbles! (The reviews for that were great too, so happy you guys liked it!)**  
**

_On to the fic:_ I started this shortly after watching "Practice Date"(which I have since rewatched at least 12 times), not to mention the last episodes plus a month long hiatus?! Essentially, I needed some fluff in my life. So that's exactly what this is! It actually turned out being my favourite chapter so far (not that I'm not still open to heavy criticism) but I really hope it's adequate for all of you too.

Usual lack of ownership applies, including any mistakes related to sailing (I know so little I'm sorry).

**P.S:** This form of storytelling is a bit confusing. Anything in brackets is present tense dialogue, the characters saying them should be obvious. Otherwise, I hope you can follow along!

* * *

_Beautiful comes from reflection_

Whenever they are asked to retell this story, they argue about who tells it best. The person asking usually thinks this is adorable, but it's a serious issue they have.

"You're awful at telling stories, you always skip all the minor details and jump straight to the ending without any build up!" Emma argues.

"Ha! And you tell it better with your in-depth description of the outfit you were wearing at the time or the colour of the sky when it happened?" Alex rolls his eyes, though he's smiling good-naturedly.

The argument could continue for at least another ten minutes, depending on who actually asked the question in the first place. In this case, William Darcy actually feels apologetic about interjecting fifteen minutes in with, "Perhaps you should tell the story together?"

Emma and Alex stare at him, not sure whether to be angry that he interrupted their foolishness or glad that he came up with an adequate compromise. In the end, Alex shrugs, Emma rolls her eyes, and they both mutter "Fine."

So the story goes something like this:

Emma had been avoiding Alex all week. This was particularly weird because they had actually been getting along really well the week prior. Alex can't remember a better time in their friendship, actually, and that's saying something since there had once been a two week period after Emma had gotten her tonsils out when she hadn't been able to speak. (Watch yourself, Mr. Knightley.)

Nevertheless, all week, Emma had kept her office door closed, had sent Harriet to get whatever information she needed from Alex, and had avoided any common office spaces like the plague. Alex had attributed it to her taking a serious interest in their new client, although he knew that this client's agenda was not quite that extensive.

This was how he found himself knocking on her door after a week of silence. He heard shuffling behind the door and waited for her to open it. There seemed to be a bit of hesitation, perhaps Harriet had a special knock he hadn't mimicked correctly that signified it was him knocking, but eventually the knob turned and Alex came face to face with his best friend.

He was overcome by her beauty. (Emma, seriously?) Well, it had been a week and he was really just glad to see her at all that she seemed to look even better than usual. (Happy?)

"Hi," they say in unison, both a little breathless. Then they both laugh, trying to ease the tension a bit.

"What are you up to?"

"Oh, you know, life-coach things. You?"

"You know, business things."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Completely," they grin at each other. Alex wasn't surprised that their easy rapport could return to normal even after being out of practice for a week.

"So," she asks, looking like she was itching to close her door again.

"So, I wanted to know if you were free this weekend?" which really sounded like him asking her out. (Which was totally his intention.)(No it wasn't, shut up, Emma.)

In response to the question, Emma curled her lips inward and took a deep breath. Alex starting becoming worried with what that meant in terms of an answer.

"I don't think I have any plans, why?"

Surprised, Alex smiled, "I was going to go sailing, thought you could join me?"

Emma made a face like she was considering the idea. It wasn't surprising that she had to think it over; her and sailing didn't have the best of relationships. It was one of the few things that Emma didn't actually excel at and unlike Knightley, who worked at it once he realized he had no natural skill for sailing, she quickly gave up after her first few attempts. As a result, young Emma hated sailing and only went on a sailing boat when Alex was the one at the helm. (It was fun because he was terrible at it.)

Eventually though, Emma seemed to concede to the fact that she actually hadn't been out on the water for a while and agreed.

"Great, Saturday at six then" and Alex's smile was so infectious that Emma was still grinning when he left and she closed her office door.

Now, there was, of course, another reason why Emma had hesitated at the idea of weekend plans with Alex. It was the same reason she had been avoiding him all week.

It had started last month, when one of Alex's old college buddies had found her on facebook, likely due to her slight fame in social media as her business took off. He had messaged her and they had actually started a pretty good conversation. He, Matt, had achieved his goal of becoming a lawyer and now practiced with a large firm in Los Angeles. He and his wife were about to celebrate their second anniversary. In all honesty, Emma was proud and surprised to see him so well off; she remembered him from college and had never thought of him as the settling down and becoming so successful type. (What? He still holds that keg-stand record on campus, doesn't he?)

Anyway, Matt had also seemed happy for her and her own success. Then, a few days ago, they'd somehow gotten on the topic of her love life and Emma had been confused to hear that he was surprised she was single.

"Did Knightley move out East or something?" he asked.

"Alex? Out East? Please, that boy is more homegrown than California grapes," but she still couldn't see the correlation between his questions, "No, he's helping me run my business."

"Oh, well I guess that explains a thing or two."

"What do you mean?" she asked, which was followed by a long pause where she wondered if he had signed off.

"Well he's probably warding off any potential dates again ;)" he added a few minutes later.

"?"

"I remember he did that to me and Lyle at that party at Madison's. He wasn't a physical guy but I'd worked out with him once or twice so I knew to stay clear of his fist lol" Matt typed out in response.

Remembering the party, well as much as she could under the haze of alcohol (That's a polite way of saying you were beyond wasted, Emma), she had figured Matt meant that Alex had been playing the overprotective brother again. "Yeah, he gets like that sometimes."

"No, it's fine. Now that I'm married, I get it a bit more. When you're that in love, you aren't afraid to go the extra mile," to which Emma almost spat out her drink. Now it was her turn to pause and consider how on Earth she was meant to respond to _that._

Matt beat her to it by saying, "Don't worry, Emma. I'm sure he'll get around to saying it eventually," as if Emma was already aware of her best friend's feelings.

She found herself staring at the conversation long after Matt said goodbye and logged off. It was getting increasingly hard to hear her thoughts over the sound of her overactive heart in that moment. All she could think was _What do I do now?_

Needless to say, after a week of avoiding Alex to get her thoughts straight, she still didn't have a suitable answer to that question. She had to accept that things between her and Alex had been pushing past platonic over the last little while. But now that she recognized it, she had to decide whether she was going to push it further, or reel it back in. What was worse was that every time she thought to pick up the phone to call Annie, all she could imagine would be a reversal of roles from the whole Weston-wedding fiasco. She imagined Annie telling her that the answer was obvious before picking out flowers for the centrepieces at their wedding. Was that what it was like when she became certain of a couple? (Yes.)(Shut up, Alex.)

This all meant that Emma spent a lot of time hitting her head against her desk and taking breaks from work to shop, for therapeutic purposes. When Alex knocked on her door Thursday, she had been about to call Annie to arrange another spa day. God knows she needed one, plus she figured if they were both relaxed, the two friends could discuss the Alex situation without getting fanatical about it. And then, naturally, Alex had to ruin that plan with his date. (It wasn't a date!)(I'm afraid it really was, Knightley.)(See, even Darcy knows how to recognize a date when he hears about one.)(Please, don't encourage her.)

Anyway, this is how Emma ended up with a coffee in her hand at six o'clock on a Saturday morning, looking out her kitchen window and waiting for Knightley to pick her up. She kept looking down at her phone, both to check the clock, and to contemplate texting Annie for the hundredth time. At 6:15, she almost did just that, when she saw Alex's car move into her driveway.

Alex knocked on Emma's door with one hand while carrying a paper bag in the other. When she opened the door and he saw her disgruntled face, Alex beats her to the punch by saying, "I know I'm late, but I thought I'd pick you up breakfast from that stupid Bistro you like on the other side of town. It would have been inconvenient to drive there since it's in the opposite direction of our destination," he finishes, taking a deep breath and marking the air with his hotter air. Emma had ended up smiling through his explanation and felt the strange urge to kiss him when he finished, but chose to take the food from his grasp instead. (I still don't appreciate that, you know.)

"Excuses, excuses," she offered over her shoulder as she made her way to the other side of the car.

He chuckled as he grabbed his own door handle and stepped into the vehicle. "Not everyone can be as punctual as you, Emma."

"Everyone should still try, nonetheless," she watched him start the car, studied him putting his gloved hands on the steering wheel. "Is it going to be that cold?"

Alex followed her eyes to his hands and promptly took the gloves off and handed them to her before backing out of her driveway. After a few minutes of driving, he noticed her expression and offered, "I have extras in the back. I figured you wouldn't be prepared," she swats his arm at this.

"Hey, no harassing the driver," he laughed.

"He brings me breakfast and gloves and thinks he can ridicule me to boot?" she's laughing too, of course.

"Yes, I don't think anyone would argue with that trade of," he smiles at her at a red light and takes a sip of his own coffee.

"But yeah, are you sure you don't want to turn back, it's supposed to be a bit cold this morning," he gestures to her obvious lack of anything other than a short windbreaker before focusing back on the road.

"No, it's fine," she stretches out in his car, fighting off a yawn, "besides, if I get really cold, I'll just steal more of your stuff." She smiles sarcastically at him and holds up her now-gloved hands.

He shakes his head with a smirk on his face. They both let the conversation slip into easy topics like work, clients, their families, etc. for the rest of the drive.

It's almost another two hours before they actually get the boat in the water. Not that it was a particularly tedious two hours, in fact, they both end having enough enjoyment getting the thing into the water and ready to sail that they almost forget that they still get to sail the thing.

Funnily enough, Emma's so engrossed in the activity she only notices in retrospect that the platonic side of their relationship has been completely blown out of the water now. (Pun intended.) Like Alex demanding that he put her life-jacket on for her. (That was for safety purposes….) Or him picking Emma up around the waist to move her out of his way when he tries to check the sails for tears, enjoying the giggles it forced out of her. Or when he turns around to brush the hair out of her eyes repeatedly until she pulls her hair back in a ponytail.

In fact, there were a lot of moments that signified this change. But the pair of them spent too much time laughing and making fun of each other to really notice.

"You ready?" he asks, before pulling a hat down over his ears.

She nods and Alex helps her onto his father's boat. His family actually owns a lot of sailboats, well, more than was strictly necessary for wealthy families of the West Coast. This one was his favourite though; it was the one he learned to sail in back when he was a teenager. He held a lot of memories in it, mostly from times out with either his mother or Emma. The former rarer than the latter.

They sailed for three hours. It was a really good day for sailing with the wind being constant but not heavy enough to tip the boat if Alex was careful. And that was pretty questionable with Emma on board.

"How cold is the water?" she asked over the wind.

"Colder than the air, generally, why?"

"If I fall in, due to your lack of coordination, I just want to know what to expect," she winked over at him from her spot at the back of the boat.

"You'd be better off than before, now that you've stolen half my stuff," he countered, not admitting that he liked the sight of her in his old college sweater. She laughed and he suddenly wished there was someone else on board to steer the boat.

Alex turned back to face the water, hoping to turn the boat back around towards the harbour. He thought they'd both had enough of the water for one day. Then he felt a tug on his head before he felt the chill of the air cutting into his ears.

"Seriously?" he asked, without turning around.

"My ears were cold," she protests, and he knows she's not even trying to hide her smile just then. When he's finally able to turn back to throw another comment back at her, he gets a full glimpse of her wrapped in his clothes almost from head to toe. His comment dies in his throat and he returns his focus to the boat and getting them back to the shore as soon as possible.

When they finally do get back to the harbour, he helps her out of the boat and back onto the wooden blanks of the dock. And since his boat is being looked after, Alex focuses his attention on Emma, who still manages to be shivering despite the fact that temperatures have risen and she's wearing at least three layers.

Alex finds himself absentmindedly moving his hands up and down her arms while watching his boat get secured to the dock.

"We should get lunch or something," he suggests, still not looking at her, his hands' movements slowing down unconsciously.

"Alex," she says quietly, catching his attention nevertheless. Then he notices what he's doing and blushes cherry red before slowing his hands to a stop at her elbows. (Over-exaggeration at its finest, Miss Woodhouse.)

His apology is cut off by Emma's, "Thanks, my arms were still cold," to which he nods and takes a step back from her, slipping his hands into his pockets.

An awkward silence falls between them and neither is sure how to move past it.

And then Emma seems to realize for the first time how stupid this is, the fact that they can flirt with each other all day and only become awkward the moment one of them mentions it. Then she realizes something totally different, and that was that she wanted him to kiss her. (Very much.)

"Alex?" he lifts his eyes to meet hers, looking thankful that she brought them out of the awkwardness.

"My lips are still really cold," and she doesn't try to hide her grin when he inhales sharply.

But Alex Knightley doesn't let Emma Woodhouse get her way that easily.

So he moves forward and promptly places his gloved hand against her lips, titling his head to the side and asking, "Better?"

Emma laughs into his hand, her eyes sparkling. She reaches up with her own hand to pull his off, but he holds it there, making sure to allow her to breathe. Alex is grinning at her and she's rolling her eyes but he can still feel her smiling under his glove.

And then, she bites him.

"Hey!" he shouts, removing his hand and searching it as if for blood (As if there'd be any, you baby.) Emma's laughing at the display and he scowls at her, even though his eyes are still smiling.

"Your hand wasn't helping," Emma manages to get out through her laughs.

He nods, as though expecting this, and then leans forward. Emma closes her eyes in expectation, but Alex has no intention of kissing her. (Yet.)

Instead, he pulls the sweater she's wearing over her mouth and then ties the strings on the hood to secure it in place.

"There you go," he says to what little of her face he can still see. She narrows her eyes at him, muttering something about it not being funny as she undoes the strings and pulls the sweater back down.

"I'm running out of ideas here, Emma. Got any input?" he raises an eyebrow at her and doesn't even have the decency to hide his smile.

She huffs at him, looking very much like she wanted to stomp her foot. (I hardly think I was acting that juvenile.)(Whatever you say, Emma.) It doesn't help that he makes his face look very confused, as if he has no idea why she was so affronted.

"Oh, I got it!" he says, moving closer to her and wrapping his hands around her waist. She looks decidedly skeptical but asks, "Okay?"

"I don't know how I didn't think of this before," he chuckles, "it was obvious from the moment you mentioned it."

She narrows her eyes at him, "Okay?" and he leans in further before adding his final comment, "Coffee!" and he moves to walk off the dock when Emma tugs him back by the hand.

"I'm going to kill you," she says before she raises herself up on her toes to kiss him.

Alex chuckles before kissing her back, bringing his hand up to catch her face. His other hand is intertwined with hers from when she grabbed him, but Emma drops it to slowly raise her own hand onto his shoulder, pulling him closer. He drops his hands to her waist to help them get even closer and Emma responds by slipping her tongue into his mouth. The desire to breathe is increasing but Alex doesn't care, he'd never breathe again if he could stay this way forever.

They're jolted apart by the sound of a horn from one of the boats around them. And then they're laughing and Knightley's pulling her under his chin and holding her as close as possible.

"You warm now?" he asks, somewhat hoping the answer is no so he has an excuse to kiss her again.

She laughs, though, and nods her head in his chest, "Thanks. So...lunch?"

"Lunch," he agrees, before steering them towards his car.

And that's mostly what happened.

"Not that it compares to yours and Lizzie's, the internet's still talking about that one," Emma adds as Darcy relaxes back into his seat.

William chuckles before stating, "I believe there are far more benefits to privacy than you realize, Emma. Besides, I hear you had your own share of world-wide embarrassment a few weeks ago?"

Both Emma and Alex blush at the memory of him kissing her on a camera as she began wrapping up one of her videos. He hadn't meant to do it, but he'd gotten into the habit of kissing her whenever he could, especially when he left a room without her. That day he'd just forgotten about the camera.

"Yes, well, at least that one wasn't our first," Alex shrugs, trying to imagine how terribly awkward he would have been if he hadn't expected it. Or worse, he had engaged it without knowing how she'd react.

"Well, it is a wonderful story. Perhaps you'll share it with your fans, one day," Darcy offered, before noticing the time and offering quick goodbyes to the pair as he was going to be late for his meeting.

As Alex helped Emma shrug into her jacket, he stated, "It's an interesting idea, you know," which was met with confusion on Emma's part. "Telling the story, I mean. They'd really love to hear something like that."

Emma watched him button up his own jacket before responding with, "I don't think so," and she knew he'd wonder why. So after he'd pushed in their chairs and slipped his hand into hers, Emma continued, "I think it makes our story a little better, that not everyone knows the details. Kind of makes my life feel like my own again, after all that 'filming'."

He smiles as they leave the café. Of course now that the cameras have left the office, Emma develops a particular disdain for them; having moved onto the next big thing already. But he, too, was glad that some things could just be theirs.

So when they stopped at a red light on the walk back to their condo, he kissed her, hoping to make as many memories as possible just between the two of them.

* * *

Well aren't they both just disgustingly adorable? Hope my Darcy was okay, maybe I'll bring Lizzie in later. Any other characters you want to appear? Reviews are just the place to suggest that haha!


	6. It's about time

**A/N: **Forty follows, I am in awe! And, as always, I'm so thankful for the comments: to bookbabe68, I used the headcanon that Darcy and Alex went to school together. As for him hearing the story, the three of them were probably on a double date but Lizzie couldn't make it, so the topic just kind of came up. To Guest, I feel like apologizing for making you cry, but I'm glad you liked it! And to toffeema, Ms. Reen, and FunnyxLittlexBrains you guys are too too sweet - your compliments keep me writing.

Well this absolute **_beast_** of a chapter hopefully satisfies some of you requesting an Emma centric fic. I finally figured out how I wanted to write it out while still staying true to the Emma we know and love. I'm oddly super proud of this fic, so I sincerely hope it isn't too awful.

I continue to have no royalties to any of the original work; there'd probably be a lot less plot if I did.

* * *

_You get in the habit of seeing what you want to see._

She was eight years old, the first time it happened.

And it wasn't just any old day, it was Halloween. Emma usually got quite festive about Halloween, like almost any other holiday. But this year had been different.

From the minute her father first heard her sniffles and saw her runny nose, Emma knew there was absolutely no chance she'd get to show off her newest queen of hearts costume on this oh so special of days. Not used to not getting her way, young Emma pouted to her father and said she'd stay in every day for a week if he would just let her go out on Halloween. But to no avail.

This is how Emma found herself at home watching scary movies with Alex Knightley on the funnest day of the year. Apparently, Alex had owed his parents a favour, so when Mr. Woodhouse called them and asked them if their son could watch Emma for the evening, they had been happy to say yes.

"Emma, it's one Halloween. I don't think it's the end of the world."

"Just because you're too old to know how fun it is, doesn't mean you can lie about it, Alex," Emma says, as she slumps down in the couch to show off her frustration. It wasn't fair that Alex's punishment was to babysit her on Halloween. Last year was his last time going out trick or treating because 'Twelve year olds have more important things to do,' so this wasn't even a punishment for him; Emma was the one being punished.

"Why are we watching this?" Emma asked for the third time since the movie started.

"Because watching scary movies is a way better way to spend Halloween," Alex responded, matter-of-factly.

"I think you forgot: trick or treating involves free candy."

"Then I'm saving your teeth too, now just watch the movie," Alex demanded, as he got up to head to the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Emma questioned, jumping to her feet the minute she noticed he was leaving.

"The kitchen, for like five seconds, why? Are you scared?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms, all of which looked very funny considering she was dressed up like a Lewis Carroll character. "No, just making sure you're doing your job."

He rolled his eyes at her and headed towards the kitchen. Emma sunk back into the couch and pulled her blanket up to her chin. It should have been there the whole time, really, but she refused to look afraid in front of Alex. So she had been trying to survive the five hour fright fest he had left on the screen without any comfort whatsoever.

Emma wasn't even sure what movie was on at this point, she just knew that some guy was walking around with a very sharp knife and the music made it seem like he was about to pop out of every corner in her house. It didn't help that the wind beating against her house was so loud at this time of night, making the noises from the television seem even more like they were happening all around her.

With Alex on the couch beside her, it was hard to be scared. Even at the most gruesome parts, he barely seemed to react; just kept shoving more popcorn into his face. Emma took this to mean that the movie wasn't actually happening in reality so she could breathe a bit easier.

But now, Alex was gone and she was certain her house had never felt so spooky.

As the main girl in the film walks over to the closet, and the music crescendos as she slowly opens the door, one of the branches from the tree at the side of Emma's house smacks into the wall due to the wind. And Emma screams. Very loudly.

Suddenly, the lights in her den flash on and someone is pulling the blanket off her head. Terrified, Emma looks up to see Alex staring at her, checking to see if she was physically injured. "You okay?"

That's the first time it happened. The first time Emma Woodhouse wanted to kiss Alex Knightley. It was an instinctive reaction to feeling like he was saving her from whatever had been in that eerie closet. She doesn't kiss him though, because somewhere at the back of her eight year old mind she realizes that that would be weird, so she throws her arms around him instead.

He hugs her and chuckles as he realizes it was the movie, and not anything physically in the room, that had set her off. So he changes the channel to a Charlie Brown special and hands her the entire bowl of candy they had left over from the trick or treaters.

Emma falls asleep after a sugar high and forgets all about the ridiculous notion of kissing her babysitter.

It was at Emma's sixteenth birthday that it happened again.

Her father's home was full, mostly with students from her school. But unlike most teens, Emma could say with assertion that everyone there knew her name. It was kind of hard not to, really, when she was already the campaign manager for the soon-to-be elected school president, head of the debate team, and captain of the varsity swim team. There seemed to be nowhere on campus where Emma Woodhouse didn't fit in.

She had been practically floating around the room, shifting from group to group, trying to give everyone her utmost attention, when Madison grabbed her arm and seemed to bring her back down to Earth.

"Sometimes, I forget you're such a socialite that I realize I'm not actually _supposed _to recognize everyone here," Emma's friend joked, motioning with one hand to the huge assortment of people around them. With the other, she was dragging Emma across the dining room of her house.

"I'd be happy to introduce you to some of them, Madison," Emma replied, trying to pull her arm from the other girl's grasp.

"Good! Because we haven't been able to find anyone who knows these guys," Madison finishes her statement and her movement at the same time. Emma turns her head to face her friend and then follows her eyes to absorb what she was looking at.

Alex Knightley, and three of his college friends he had coerced into coming to her party, were watching a hockey game in her father's den. As bothered as she was that they hadn't even tried to join the party, Emma didn't understand what the big problem was as she turned back to her friend.

When Emma did look back, she realized that Madison had been joined by several other girls, peaking their heads around the door frame and peering over Madison's head. Madison herself stood smiling at Emma and looking expectant. Emma gave her a quizzical look; she still didn't understand what all the fuss was about.

"Okay, so Jessica's betting that they're college guys but I told her you couldn't possibly know college guys but they're definitely not from our school, so how do you know them, Emma?" Madison sputtered out, and by the looks on the faces around her, she was asking the question on everyone's mind.

Annoyed that this had somehow become a big deal, Emma spun herself around and entered the den completely and with purpose. That purpose being to shut off the game the guys were watching, initiating a series of frustrated and disgruntled noises, before turning back to the girls who had crowded by the entrance way.

She grabbed Alex by the collar of his shirt, which surprised him a great deal more than her shutting off the TV, which would have been expected. Before he had the chance to say anything other than "Hey!" Emma began speaking:

"This is my family friend, Alex," at this, Alex waved at the group of girls he hadn't noticed before. "He and his friends go to Stanford University. They're supposed to be here celebrating my birthday, just like everyone else." Emma finished, releasing Alex's collar and then returning to her spot in front of Madison.

"Anything else?"

Madison looked like she had been just offered the winning lottery ticket, "Yes, one other thing, which one of them is single?" All the other girls seemed to giggle at this, as if that exact question had been pressing on them as well. Emma felt herself smiling at her friend's question, and how could she not; she loved romance as much as the next person.

However, it was one of Alex's friends who answered with, "All of us," and a wink.

The squealing of all the girls around her, coupled with the party seemingly moving from the dining room to the den in a matter of seconds, had Emma putting her head in her hands as she smiled good-naturedly.

She removed her hands when she felt a nudge at her shoulder. Alex was staring down at her, his twenty years complimenting her sixteen in height difference, and he was looking at her with an apologetic smile.

"We didn't ruin the party, did we?"

She sighs loudly, "I guess it's okay," before returning his smile.

"Good. I wasn't really that sorry," she nudged him, hard. "Hey, we probably just made your party ten times better with our _mere presence._"

She rolled her eyes at him, "That is, until my friends notice how lame you guys are."

He shrugged, "Lame or not, we still have college written all over us. College is synonymous with cool in virtually all high schools."

"Trust me when I say your lameness still comes off of you in spades," to which Alex laughed, before continuing the heated debate on whether or not he was actually cool. Emma seemed to forget her original objective to spend time with everyone at the party once she and Alex got going on one of their legendary arguments.

"I hate to break it to you, Miss Woodhouse," he said, after their debate seemed to be winding down, "but it's been fifteen minutes, and my friends are still the highlight of your party."

At that, Emma turned to check, and noticed that Alex was right, everyone still had their eyes glued to the college guys. She turned to make some comment about him slipping something into the punch, when she noticed he had snuck off to grab more snacks and drinks.

Seeming to notice her alone for the first time, Madison practically jumped from her seat next to Matt, Alex's friend who had reported they were all single, in order to stand next to Emma.

"Hello, again?" Emma offered.

"Oh, don't give me that!" Emma raised her eyebrows at her friend's outburst, "You've been talking to Alex this whole time. Let me know what that's about." Madison eyes were shining with mischief and Emma knew she had the total wrong idea about their relationship.

"I was explaining to him why he and his friends are so very lame, he was trying to convince me otherwise. And please, stop looking at me like that, Alex is practically my brother," she rolls her eyes at the very idea.

"But he was definitely making you laugh," Carol pointed out, her and half a dozen other girls having left the group to join Madison in her interrogation. "You say that like I don't usually laugh?" Emma responded, looking at all of them confused.

"It's just…different with him, somehow," Marlene determines, and Emma watches the other girls nod in agreement.

"Well, I've just known him longer than most people, I guess. Now let's talk about something else," Emma pleaded, watching her friends eyes widen. She turned around to see Knightley smiling at her, before joining his own friends back on the couch.

This time, the urge to kiss him comes from a very different place, something akin to exasperation. Because she knows if she does, her friends would finally shut up about it, and everyone could go back to enjoying the party. She doesn't, of course, but it was the first time the notion fully develops in her mind, rather than being brought on by extenuating circumstances. Not that that was important, right? A two time thing was hardly something to get worked up over.

But three?

The third time it happens, it's five years later.

She's at a college party, she just finished exams and for the first time in her academic life, she really wants to get drunk.

So she does.

To the dismay of about three or four guys checking her out all night as she did shots, Emma's a remarkably high-functioning drunk. The only real difference between drunk Emma and sober Emma was that drunk Emma laughs a bit more and is a smidge more affectionate. Not enough so that she ends up in bed with some strange guy she's never seen before, but just enough that she ends every conversation with the people she knows using a hug, or a compliment, or a hand shake.

Thankfully, Diane is watching her carefully. Despite having a few drinks herself, she knows that Emma had a rough time with her exams and is trying to forget all the information she had just stored so neatly into her brain. So when Emma starts towards her third game of shots, Diane grabs her by the arm and takes her outside on the front porch.

"Diane, I love you, but I was really having fun in there," Emma hiccups at her as she steps out into the cold evening. Diane wraps her sweater around herself, but if her flushed face is any indication, Emma doesn't even feel the cold.

"Give me your phone," Diane says, starting to shiver in the chill of the air, wondering whether it was the best idea to bring Emma out here.

"Yes, ma'am," Emma giggles in response, pulling out her phone and unlocking it before handing it to Diane.

Diane takes the phone in her hands, her fingers shaking as she scrolls past the contacts. Finally, she finds 'A. Knightley (Cell)' and hits the call button, silently praying that Alex doesn't have a family member with the same first initial as him.

The phone rings twice, in which Diane realizes it's four am and any normal person would be sleeping, when he finally picks up. "Hello?" he questions, sounding like he just woke up, which didn't surprise Diane at all.

"Hey, Alex? It's Diane, Emma's friend," she notices that Emma has started humming to herself on the porch swing. _Well, at least she isn't vomiting, _Diane thinks before hearing Alex confirm that he knows who she is.

"Is Emma okay?"

"Drunk. Very drunk, but not in any harm's way," Diane promised, not sure what his reaction would be. There was an audible sigh, then she's pretty sure he's shifting something around, before his next question falls on her ears.

"I'm guessing you were designated driver?" he doesn't sound angry with her, simply matter-of-fact, like he's just trying to get his head on straight.

"No, that was Emma," she hears him groan, "I don't think she expected to drink but her finals have been pretty tough on her so I think she just couldn't say no."

There's silence from the other end of the phone for an eerily long time. Then Diane hears him yawn and she feels inclined to ask, "Um, Alex?"

"Hmm, sorry, yeah. I'm on my way," and Diane lets her sigh of relief leave her before she's even ended the call.

Emma thinks the cold air is doing wonders for her alcohol-soaked brain, having successfully been able to carry a coherent conversation with Diane for the last five minutes. She doesn't expect to feel giddy again when she sees Alex's car, but it's almost as though the alcohol in her system was lying dormant until he showed up and was now springing back into action.

Diane ran over to his car first; Emma sees her shake hands in greeting with him before both of them approach her. She feels herself laughing as she pops back onto her feet to greet her knight in a shining Prius.

"There you are, Alex! Thank you, Diane, you are a godsend," Emma smiles at her friend before pulling her into a bear hug. Diane hugs her back, laughing at the shorter girl's attempts to lift her off the ground.

When she lets go of Diane, Emma turns back to Alex and grabs his hand, saying, "C'mon!"

Alex plants his feet in the concrete of the porch, raising an eyebrow at her, "Where are we going?"

"Inside," she says, because isn't it obvious? "Diane didn't let me finish my last round of shots, so you'll have to help me with them." She moves towards him conspiratorially, grabbing both of his hands instead of the one, and smiling at him as she pulled him towards the door again.

His feet stay planted. "Emma, it's four am."

"Yup, but there's no school tomorrow so come on, Alex, please," she hangs the last word in the air and brings their faces close together again. She thinks she can convince him, even if she has to annoy him to death.

"Next time, Emma. Let's go," he says, using their still interlocked hands to pull her towards his car. Emma pouts and moves so her nose is pressed to his, "One. Shot. Please."

He sighs and she feels the air on her lips, "One shot now, or twenty shots tomorrow? Final offer." Emma grins, because she's getting her way, and hugs Alex. Then she somehow manages to wrap herself in his arms and he leads the pair of them to his car. Alex waves a thank you to a very tired-looking Diane and starts the car.

Alex has only been to Emma's new apartment once before so he doesn't want to risk getting lost. Instead, he takes her back to his apartment, at which point she's asleep, so he tucks her into his bed while he falls back asleep on the couch.

The next morning, Emma's hangover is greeted by coffee and Advil courtesy of one Alex Knightley, whose bed is a lot more comfortable than she would have expected.

It's a bit later, when he checks on her to make sure she's okay, and the pounding in her head has subsided substantially, that it happens again.

In that moment, when he bounces on the end of the bed to wake her up, she wants to kiss him. She wants to thank him for picking her up last night, for letting her sleep in his bed, for helping her through this awful hangover. She wants to thank him for not kissing her despite the ample opportunities he had when she was drunk and throwing herself all over him.

She's not sure where the thank you ends and the desire to kiss him starts though, so instead of doing it, she throws a pillow at him. And she thinks that the pillow fight that follows is better than any old kiss. So she forgets about it.

Then it happens again, and this time she just can't quite ignore it.

She's twenty-five now, her drunk college party days way behind her, and it's a particularly awful evening. Well, not that awful really, but the weather is a bit of a downer. Otherwise, it may just be one of the best days of her life.

"And the way they looked at us when we actually pulled out charts and diagrams? It was like we had already sold them on the idea but now they _knew _we meant business," Alex says, animatedly, going over the business meeting they had just finished with Pemberley Digital.

The two of them are walking back to their respective condos, huddled under a small black umbrella that Knightley had been smart enough to bring with him. Well, huddled was a relative term. In truth, Emma was under the umbrella, Alex was so engrossed in what he was saying he barely noticed he was half under the umbrella while half of him was getting soaked by the rain. A few years back, Emma would have said she didn't mention this to him because it was too funny not to use as potential blackmail later on. Now, Emma just saw it as adorable, like a puppy trying to chase its tail – neglecting to notice it was impossible.

Emma tried to listen to Alex's rendition of everything that happened in the meeting, but found herself distracted by many things. The fact that she had also been in the room when this had all happened didn't help much either. But she caught a fair share of snippets.

"And that guy, on the far left of the table, I swear he was going to faint just from looking at you too long. I'm not even sure he fully understood the presentation, but he seemed glad you were the one giving it," he joked, then laughed at his own joke, eyes shining with pure elation. As he laughed, he let his hand slide down the pole of the umbrella until it partially covered hers. He didn't notice.

"But for the ones who were really paying attention, as they should have been," he added pointedly, to no one in particular, "they could barely hide the wheels turning in their heads! I started talking about budgets and I think I could have mentioned something about putting them all in the poor house and they wouldn't have batted an eye." He's smiling up at the sky, as though the rain isn't even pouring anymore and he's basking in summer sunshine. She finds herself smiling along with him.

Then, he's looking over at her, his eyes still shining, his hand still on hers, and he says "You were incredible in there. I don't think any of what I did mattered, you had them hooked from the beginning."

She's looking down at her shoes, pulling it off as a shrug. But she's also hiding the blush and the smile that's threatening to split her face in two.

"What, no gloating? No, 'I told you I could do it, Alex'? No, victory dance?" he's laughing, but she can hear the genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I'll celebrate when they officially sign onto the company," she says, nodding her head up at him.

He scoffs. She laughs, because she knows this is exactly what their relationship has always been. One of them had to be a dreamer, the other a realist. They were pretty set in their roles, but every once in a while, he got to dream a little more and she had to keep her feet on the ground. She didn't mind though, there was something amazing about seeing that pure happiness coursing through Knightley, and it was made all the more delightful by the knowledge that it was so rare.

They walk in silence for a bit, the sound of rain and boots in puddles their only accompaniment. Then Alex says, "Thank you, by the way."

She looks over at him, he had moved a bit further out of the umbrella, his hands now in his pockets. She hadn't noticed him remove his hand from hers. "For what?"

"Sharing this idea, this company, with me. I didn't expect it to…you know?"

"Take off?" she looks at him quizzically. He shakes his head, "Mean this much to me."

She smiles and moves the umbrella so that it's covering both of them again. "Wouldn't want it to be anybody else."

And then he looks at her kind of funny, like there's something in her eyes he's never seen before. She doesn't like the appraisal so she adds, "Who else would balance my chequebooks?"

He laughs, not the same as before, but enough.

When they reach her door, which thankfully has an awning, she returns the umbrella to her friend.

"So," he starts.

"So."

"You'll text me the minute you hear anything?"

She smiles, "Of course." He takes a deep breath.

"Goodnight, Emma."

"See you," she states, and calmly shuts the door behind her even though she's shaking.

She's shaking because she wants to kiss him. Not because she's acting instinctively, not because she has something to prove, and not because she wants to thank him. Not even because it's raining out and he's smiling his stupid smile. She wants to kiss him, for the first time in her life, because he's Alex. He's Alex, her best friend who saves her from monsters in the closet, who comes to her eleventh grade birthday party and drives her home when she's drunk. And soon he'll be Alex, her best friend and business partner who keeps her from spending the company's last dime or getting too crazy about her clients.

She wants to kiss him so much it consumes her. And it terrifies her beyond all reason.

But these things go away, if they're left well enough alone, right? So she makes a point to force them away from her.

It's later, when she's snuggled on her couch with a cup of coffee in hand that she realizes something else that keeps her up half the night. And that was that he wanted to kiss her too.

It's been two years and that night is less than a memory. Unless Emma is searching for it, digging in her brain and in her heart for those feelings she wants no part in, it doesn't bother her. She and Knightley fall back into the easiest form of their friendship: gentle teasing, spot-on banter, and stubbornly trying to prove themselves right. It's normal. It's easy.

It could have stayed that way, really. But she was beginning to realize that there was something in motion here that neither of them could ever hope to control.

This time, there are no excuses: no scary movies, no party, no alcohol, no rain, no great step forward for the company. In fact, it might even be considered a step back.

Okay, that was drastic, but a power outage was really never seen as a positive thing. So when the lights in the office flickered and went out one Wednesday evening at half past eight, Emma found herself groaning as she reached inside her blazer pocket for her cell phone.

_Of course it had to happen tonight, _she thinks. _The one night out of a thousand that I stay late to make sure the last of the wedding details are organized. _She's muttering to herself so loudly under her breath that she doesn't hear Knightley come in until he's right behind her.

"Boo," he practically whispers into her neck.

She jumps halfway to the ceiling and once she's landed she really wants to punch him in his smug face.

"In case I don't say it enough, I _loathe _you," she narrows her eyes at him.

"Ah, well, you'll get over it," he responds, picking up the paper she dropped and handing it to her. "What are you doing here so late? I almost didn't notice anyone else was here, if not for your obnoxious iPhone shining in the dark."

"I was putting the finishes touches on client number 23," she replies, patting the wedding binder lovingly. She had been working on her latest project almost all day and night, meaning she often ran into Alex on her way out of the office. He was always here late, balancing some chequebook, or dotting an I on a signature.

Alex looks over at the binder, rarely getting to see the precious thing as it remained incomplete. He finds himself blinking as he opens it and runs his fingers down all the different dividers and sticky notes. Shaking his head, he lets out a sigh of either exasperation or awe, she can't tell.

"What?"

He notices her staring in the dim light of her iPhone and his emergency flashlight. "I always seem to forget how much work goes into planning a wedding."

Emma snorts, "That's because you've never _actually _planned one."

"No. It's because you make it look so easy," he chuckles, as he flips through pages of cake designs and fillings.

"Well, it is easy. For me," she adds when his eyes rise to meet hers, "It's what I love to do, so it's not that hard to put in the effort."

He shrugs at this, slipping onto her bench with the binder still in hand, now looking at different pocket square designs for men in the wedding. "So, Miss Woodhouse, what exactly is _the_ most important part of a wedding?"

She joins him on the bench, looking over his shoulder at the different designs she had mulled over for hours, "The couple, naturally."

He scoffs, "Nice cop-out." She nudges him with her shoulder. "You know what I mean, Emma. What part makes or breaks the wedding?"

She flips a few pages in the binder to look at floral arrangements but replies with, "The vows."

"Okay," he concedes, "why the vows?"

"What you say about a person on your wedding day should be everything you've wanted to say to them up to that point, but haven't, and everything you need them to know after the wedding, in case you never get the chance," she flipped to the page of potential photographers.

Emma is running her finger down the list of photographers, making sure she attributed the right person to the appropriate task, when she feels Alex's eyes on her. She looks up into them but can't read them in the low lighting of his emergency flashlight.

"What now?"

"Nothing," he returns his attention to the book. However, he doesn't fail to add, "It's just nice to be reminded why I jumped onboard this crazy business scheme of yours. You really know what you're talking about."

She finds it's her turn to stare at him now. And for the first time in two whole years, she feels the annoying nagging at the back of her mind. The warmth in her stomach and the longing in her entire being to kiss him. Because while she was warring with this feeling, trying to pull it apart and understand it so that she could master it completely, Alex had just accepted it with open arms.

Emma sees it in her head, like a series of flashbacks she had been ignoring for a very long time. She sees his face appearing as she opens her eyes, expecting a killer but seeing his concerned expression instead. She remembers him smiling at her at her birthday, for no reason other than that he can and he's happy to see her in her element, surrounded by people who love her. Then, he's there in his car as she turns up the radio to a ridiculous pop song she only knows the lyrics to because she's drunk. And he's laughing at her display, even pretending to sing along to a lyric or two when she asks him to. She's 25 and they're under an umbrella in the rain and his hand is on hers and he's laughing at the sky like he's king of the world.

Alex fell for her so naturally, so logically, like a string of dominos falling one after another. She had tripped and closed her eyes to the fall until it hit her square in the face.

But now they were here, in this stupid dark room where they could barely see one another, and they're both finally on the same level. It would be so easy to ignore it, to continue on in this darkness like nothing had changed between them and nothing ever would. But Emma didn't know what she was waiting for; she had every sign in the world, all she had to do now was leap.

So when Alex shines the flashlight in her face to check that she was still all there, she swats the thing out of her face and reaches blindly for the collar of his shirt. And what she said before, about something being in motion that neither of them are in control of? It reared its head again here, so that her grasping fingertips met the rough fabric of his shirt on the first try.

She tightens her grip, pulling him towards her. Alex looks awfully surprised but, in seeing her hesitation to continue, he drops the flashlight onto the floor and grabs her waist with both his hands. There's a breath - their noses are pressed together and they're staring at each as best as they can - and in that moment, either of them could easily choose to walk away. But instead the pair of them start kissing in the dark.

The kiss is like breaking the surface of an ocean that she was drowning in. Emma feels like she is kissing Knightley for hours on end. The first hour, on instinct because she feels so safe around him. The next hour, to prove that she isn't afraid to kiss the boy who made her laugh like no one else. Another hour, to thank her friend who does everything she ever needs him to, and never expects a thing in return. And the last, to kiss the man who always believed in her against all reason.

When she stops to breathe, she aches with the realization that this is what she had been denying herself for so long. "It's about time," she mutters to herself, through her heavy breathing.

Alex kisses her cheek and asks, "Pardon?"

Emma moves her hands from his collar, where her knuckles had begun turning white, to the back of his neck. "Nothing, talking to myself."

"Hmm," he offers, before pressing his lips to hers again as the lights flicker back to life.

Emma breaks the kiss to look up at lights, as if to clarify they're actually working. Also, to roll her eyes at the universe for dropping such a big hint on her.

Then she turns to Knightley and sees a smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

"Oh my god," she says, looking absolutely disgusted, "if you make a joke about this being illuminating, I swear to god, I will never kiss you again."

Alex is laughing as he moves his hands under her blazer to pull her closer. "I was going to go with something more along the lines of our chemistry being _electric_."

She groans, "Nope," and begins removing her hands from his neck, her mouth set in a hard line. Alex keeps laughing as he leans in towards her again. And even though she's repeating "Nope!" the whole time he's brushing kisses into her neck and on her cheeks and eyelids, the word becomes muffled with her laughter before long and then she's kissing his lips again.

And this was, of course, by no means the last time Emma Woodhouse wanted to kiss Alex Knightley. But every time after this, excluding some awkward situations and those times he had a cold, Emma never chose to act against her instincts again. After all, they had worked quite well at making other people happy, maybe it was time she started focusing on herself.

* * *

Hope you made it all the way through, if you survived, prove it by reviewing! Also, question time: was this grossly too long? I'm working on my next chapter, and it's pretty complete right now but I _could_ add in another section - it would just make it considerably longer. Is it worth it, or should I stick to my mildly "short" one-shots (like the previous chapters)?


	7. The whole nine yards

**A/N:** Hi again! So happy to hear that everyone liked the longer chapter, especially because this one is even longer oops. As for reviews, you guys didn't let me down, as usual. To leilalolalee, that's so cute and I'm really grateful for the compliment (I may or may not have bragged about it just a little...). To Forever Day, I definitely try to keep the stories as different and fresh as possible, so I'm glad that doesn't go unnoticed. And thank you, I think almost all I have to offer is fluff haha. And to toffeema, Emmafan, and T123Davis, thanks for answering my pressing question - and for the compliments, I appreciate every one, truly.

So I wrote this chapter after the Christmas fic I wrote (feel free to read that if you haven't already), and I realized I love writing these two dating. Now, that's a little difficult to do in this fic, when I'm trying to keep these as all "first" kisses, so that's kind of where the idea for this fic was born. Anyway, I look forward to hearing what you think!

None of the original work belongs to me, etc.

* * *

_Step by step, inch by inch._

Alex blinks. Three times in succession, actually. He has the distinct feeling that he's dreaming but the fact that he could still feel the soreness in his shoulder from the other day told him he was most definitely awake.

Nevertheless, he hadn't expected this. Hadn't planned for it, or even allowed himself to dream of this outcome in case things went in the total opposite direction.

But for some reason, they hadn't. So he just stands in front of her and blinks.

"You plan on saying something at any point soon?" Emma asks, smiling at his visible confusion.

As if snapping himself out of a daze, which is exactly what it was actually, Alex replies with, "Yes, just…uh…processing." Emma laughs slightly.

Alex takes a deep breath and then pulls down his sleeves that he hadn't noticed were bunched up at his elbows. "You're sure, right?"

Emma laughs fully this time, nodding her head fervently. "Very."

Alex just keeps staring at her. He didn't have a game plan for this scenario. In all his overthinking of this particular moment, he had planned for every possible negative outcome, including the building actually collapsing around him. But he hadn't counted on this.

"One hundred percent certain, I mean, you haven't been drinking or anything?" he verifies, feeling like he was grasping at straws. Emma shakes her head with a soft smile on her lips.

Then she reaches out to grab his hands with her own, "I mean it, Alex. I have feelings for you, too. More than that, really; I can't put it into words exactly."

He had said something similar in his confession to her earlier, but it still sounded foreign coming back to him. Especially from her. He doesn't manage to interject before she continues, however.

"I don't…quite understand it, weirdly enough," she's trying to talk with her hands but they're still interlocked with his, "but I want to figure it all out. With you." She looks up at him then, as if to make sure it's finally getting through to him. Alex is pretty sure he still looks like a deer in the headlights though.

"I'm serious! Why is it so hard to believe?"

Alex can think of many reasons. He could list them off the top of his head in alphabetical order. It was the same list that stopped him from expressing his feelings to her so many times when he had wanted to before. But he doesn't want to explain it to her now when, in reality or fiction, she was telling him she felt the same way about him as he'd felt about her for a long time.

So he somewhat lets his brain click back into place, takes another deep breath, and asks her his next question, a topic he hadn't been practicing nearly as much as the first. "Can we go on a date, then?"

Now, it's Emma who blinks, and Alex feels like a complete idiot. _Don't rush them, it scares them away! _Emma Woodhouse dating tip #12. He knew this, knew all her stupid rules and tips. In fact, he could probably write a whole book about them, if Emma didn't already own the royalties. But, naturally, in the moment when it counted, all of Emma's unwarranted advice seems to breeze right out of his head.

"Not now, obviously, we're working. But whenever works for you, if you _are _ever free from helping the world or whatever," Alex clarifies, not sure if he is digging himself out of or further into the hole he had already started.

But Emma seems to have gotten over her initial shock (lucky her), and lets her head tilt slightly, appraising him. He forces himself not to shift awkwardly under her gaze, which seems to pay off when she smiles at him and says, "Sure."

"Sure?"

"It's an English word meaning yes," she mocks, wrapping her hands more closely around his.

"And here I was, this whole time, thinking it meant the exact opposite."

"Only when people employ sarcasm, Mr. Knightley. Not that you'd know anything about that." His mouth falls into the easiest smile he sure he's ever known. Every fear he's ever had seems to fade the longer the conversation continues.

"Sarcasm? Another foreign word, you'll need to explain it to me, too."

"I think that's what people generally do on dates, yes?"

"Oh, definitely. No good date is complete without an English lesson," Alex is staring at her lips as he waits for her response.

"That explains oh so much about my past dates," she jokes, just as her cell phone rings. The warmth of one of her hands leaves his own and he's never felt so empty. But once her phone is in hand, she snaps her head back up and their eyes meet again and she's smiling at him as their other interlocked hands fall naturally to their sides. And then he doesn't mind as much.

"Hello?" Emma answers into her phone. "Hi Ann–, wait Ryan did what?" Her face changes immediately and he knows she's entering her _Emma Woodhouse, miracle worker_ state, meaning he should probably leave her to her own devices. But he worries that if he leaves, whatever illusion this is will break and he'll go back to pining for her at a distance.

But her squeezing his hand brings him back to the here and now. One look from her and he knows the conversation isn't something she can finish quickly, and he wouldn't want her to – he knows how important Annie is to her. So he makes a face to show that it's fine, and drops her hand to pick up one of the sticky notes on her desk.

Emma's distracted by the phone call for a long time, so it's a few hours later when she finds the sticky note with the message "Friday night, 7. I _am_ picking you up" planted on her computer screen. She smiles fondly, because he could have simply texted her. But instead, she now has physical evidence that Alex Knightley did, in fact, ask her on a date. Judging by some of the looks they'd gotten over the years, she figured there had to be a bet going on somewhere or other.

* * *

Alex is true to his word and arrives at her house at exactly seven o'clock. He remembers driving down to her condo and thinking that he should be a lot more nervous than he was, especially after how much effort had gone into telling her how he felt and then blurting out the ridiculous notion of a date.

But his worries are put completely to rest when he opens the door to a very perturbed looking Emma Woodhouse. He knows she isn't mad, which meant she was just slightly annoyed. Slightly annoyed was the perfect atmosphere for their witty banter.

He opens with, "I'm not late so don't even start with that," and a smile playing on his face.

She rolls her eyes at him, "I know you're not late, I bought you the watch remember?"

"So why do you look like I just committed a felony?"

She groans, before seeming to realize they're having this conversation in an open doorway, then lightly pulls him into her condo. Mostly, anyway. He ends up leaning on her door frame with her hand still in his, looking very content with the whole situation.

"Why does our date have a dress code?"

Alex had a feeling she would have a thing or two to say about that. "Because we can't do what I'm planning to do in six inch heels and business casual dresses."

Emma looks down at herself; she's wearing a light blue sundress. Very simple and flattering but not what Alex had suggested. "How is this not 'comfy'?"

Alex takes her other hand in his before looking at her kindly, but firmly, and saying, "Put on pants."

She groans again but seems to concede with only a slight flippant comment. She's throwing, "Five minutes!" over her shoulder before racing up the stairs to get changed. Alex chuckles and closes the door behind him, wondering into the kitchen for water as he waits. He sips from the glass and laughs to himself again, realizing how completely unique their first date was already.

The next time he sees Emma, which is about four minutes later, she's wearing a black pair of jeans and a floral top. Still a far cry from most people's "casual" clothing, but it's Emma so he didn't expect much else.

"Ready?"

"We're about to do some awful physical activity, aren't we?" she pouts as she reaches out to grab his hand.

"Something like that," he offers, wrapping his hand around hers before laughing at her third groan of the evening.

This _Something Like That_ activity turns out to be bowling. Emma recognizes the place from Alex's fourteenth birthday party, one of the first she'd been invited to. The memories come back quicker than the unease sets in so Alex already has her through the door before she realizes he actually expects them to bowl.

Her complaints start with having to wear somebody else's shoes and end with her being totally overdressed for the activity. His rebuttals begin with them already being there and end with him having told her not to dress up.

Eventually, the pouting, complaining and arguing ends and Emma seems to remember that, though she hasn't done it since she was a kid, she did actually kind of enjoy bowling.

The downside was the fact that she was pretty much on par with Alex's bowling skills, when he had had every intention of impressing her. But the sound of her laughter and excitement as she gets a third strike makes the fact that they're at a tie-game less annoying.

Because their bowling skills were so evenly matched, the real advantage came to the bowler who could flirt with the other better and distract them from the game. And, as with most things in life, Emma proved to surpass him in this too. His final turn ends up being a gutter ball because Emma insists on adjusting the collar of his shirt before he throws. She was annoyingly good at making everything distracting to him, but her hands on his neck were kind of the final straw.

He loses but he doesn't even have the heart to truly complain.

But that's also because the date works out better than he expected. Alex had known that any regular date would hardly be suitable for Emma and him. He couldn't sit across from her at dinner and pretend to not know everything about her. He couldn't take her to the movies and spend the entire time not arguing about the other person's awful taste in movies. But something easy and silly like bowling, he could do that. The flirtation-distraction game had just been an added bonus he didn't think either of them had seen coming. A bonus he was sure they'd be enjoying again, another night.

After the game, he convinces her to eat a slice of pizza with him – despite her many protests. She looks like every bite is torture, but he can tell that she was starving from all their "physical activity". And, she looks like she's secretly enjoying the "fat-infused, gluten-filled, heart attack waiting to happen."

They're talking about clients and events from work when she suddenly says, "It's still really weird that you asked me on a date."

Alex takes a sip of his pop before replying. "I know you have a degree in life-coaching," she hits him at this, "but, as far as I've ever been told, normal people go on dates when they like each other."

"We aren't normal people, Alex. We're…you and me. We don't need _official dates_."

"You're saying you didn't enjoy yourself tonight?"

Emma looks down at her shoes, her own shoes – not having kept the bowling shoes longer than necessary, before replying. "No, I loved it. Wish I had planned it myself, really," he smiles at her praise, wishing they weren't sitting on bar stools so he could wrap an arm around her.

"But I just mean, I don't want you to feel pressured. All of this is supplementary."

Alex is shaking his head though. "No way. If I'm going to be with you, I'm going the whole nine yards. Which includes preliminary dating, taking it slow, and general gentlemanlike behaviour."

She scoffs, "You've been taking advice from your dad again, haven't you?"

He rolls his eyes, "Emma, I'm not going to let you tell people,_ especially_ our parents, that we're together unless we're sure about this."

"I am sure!"

"I know that, so am I, but we're taking a big jump here so let's just take it slow."

Emma pouts and plays around with her cardboard pizza plate. She's muttering something akin to "Fine" and "You better makes this worthwhile", so he starts chuckling because, whether she's happy about it or not, they are going to get through this.

When he drops her off back at home, he realizes that dating Emma is one of the best things that ever happened to him. Not that this was surprising to him, and not that he didn't expect them to have bumps along the way like anyone else, but the fact that "dating" her felt so normal made it seem as though he had just been preparing for this moment for a very long time.

"If I shower tomorrow and still smell like pizza and sweat, I'm blaming you," Emma says, as she puts her key in the door and turns the lock. "And if my shoes are damaged in any way, you are buying me another pair," she adds, walking into her condo and flicking on the lights. "And the next date should definitely involve less horrible lighting, it's bad for the eyes," she turns the corner into her kitchen and notices that he isn't following her.

Emma turns around to see Alex smirking at her from her doorway. "Are you taking in the scenery or are you planning to come inside?"

"Nope," he responds, shaking his head. She walks over to him, narrowing her eyes even though she's more confused than annoyed. "Why?"

He looks at her in mock-shock before stating, "You would hardly invite someone in on the first date."

She looks at him as though she's trying to decide whether to drop her jaw in shock or clench it in frustration. "Seriously, Alex?"

"Yes."

She closes the distance between them before pressing her face into his chest. "You are the worst."

Alex laughs and wraps an arm around her, rubbing circles into her back. After a few minutes, he tells her, "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

She nods into his chest before moving her head back and looking up at him expectantly. He smiles and says, "Good night, Emma," before removing his hand from her back and walking towards his car.

He gets her text a few minutes later, after he's parked in his own driveway. He laughs at the three-worded, "I hate you." and ends up staying up for another two hours texting her before his body finally crashes into bed.

* * *

Their second "official" date doesn't come around for some time since work is keeping them both so busy. It's more than two weeks later when Alex finally manages to stick his head into Emma's office for long enough to ask if she was free that Thursday night. Surprisingly, she was and he again made a point of telling her that he would be picking her up shortly after work.

Emma fidgets in the seat next to him on the ride over. She wasn't worried about whatever Alex's plans were, she just doesn't like not knowing what to expect – hated being caught off guard. She didn't understand why he wanted to keep these things a secret anyway, it wasn't like she wouldn't eventually find out what was going on. At least she had dressed better this time, having slipped into one of Alex's pull over sweaters rather than potentially ruin another well purchased cardigan of her own.

"You okay?" Alex asks, taking his eyes off the road only briefly to look her over with concern. Emma manages to still the shaking of her leg, though it takes a good deal of her concentration.

"Yup," she responds, popping the P and turning to smile at him. Alex looks skeptical but simply squeezes her hand and continues driving. He doesn't even protest when Emma leans over and begins choosing the radio station – something he was known to complain about. Perhaps they were both just a little on edge.

When they finally arrive, however, Emma lets whatever skepticism she has go and just starts laughing. Alex is trying to help her out of his car when she uses both her hands to cover her mouth to stop the sound, but he's already chuckling a bit himself. "Surprise?" he tries for, and Emma just shakes her head and steps out onto the sidewalk.

For the guy who took her bowling for their first date, a second adventure to a mini-golf course should not have surprised Emma at all. But she can't help remembering the last time they'd gone mini-golfing. It had been golf-in-the-dark mini-put in Malibu and Alex's brother, John, had fallen ill in the most _strange _of ways. That was, of course, not the only reason why that evening was memorable, or funny for that matter, but it's the first thought that flashes in her mind and Emma knows she isn't going to let Alex convince her to eat the food at this place like last time.

"You were thinking about John, I'm guessing," Alex says, after he pays for their clubs and golf balls and they set off. Emma had still been giggling the whole time, which Alex could only take as a good sign because she at least wasn't complaining like she had about bowling.

Emma laughs again, pulling one of the clubs from his grasp. "I was thinking about that whole day, actually. It was kind of bizarre," she replies, wrinkling her nose a bit.

The course is a bit of a maze to get through but, seeing as it was made for children, it wasn't hard to find the bright pink number 1 after a small bit of searching. Alex drops the bucket of balls and begins setting up his first shot before he continues the conversation.

"Bizarre wouldn't be my word for it," he strikes the ball coolly and turns back to face Emma before he even sees his result.

"Well, you didn't know my sister as well as I did back then," she says, watching the golf ball he just hit fall into place. Hole in one.

"Do you still believe she did that?" he asks, humorously, as he moves out of the way to give her a chance to putt. She moves to the tee, but simply leans against her golf club, as if she had all the time in the world.

"It's not even a question, Alex. She most definitely did it."

"You honestly think Isabella poisoned my brother and still hasn't admitted to it?" Alex finds himself laughing slightly at her shocked expression as he moves to grab her other hand in his own.

"When you say it like that, it sounds like she was trying to kill him. No, she just purposely messed up his order so he would have an allergic reaction and walk out on his date," Emma shrugged, grinning up at his disbelief.

"Emma, she's not that devious."

"She grew up with me, Alex. She had to learn a thing or two," she winks at him, before leaning into his chest. "Well, I can hardly argue with that," he replies, wrapping his arms around her. Emma then poked him in the gut before muttering a "Hey!" of indignation. Alex just laughed.

Emma remembers the evening they were discussing clearly. She, Isabella, Alex, John, and the boys' then-girlfriends had gone out together to celebrate something – it was important at the time but now it seems so trivial that Emma has forgotten what it was, exactly. Nevertheless, the six of them had ended up mini-golfing at this fancy place up in Malibu, where they were visiting at the time. Emma's sister had spent the entire time split between trying not to look jealous and being obviously jealous about John's newest girlfriend. So when they had all ordered smoothies from the course, and yes it was the sort of mini-golf course that actually served smoothies, Isabella had neglected to inform them of John's slight allergy to mangos. Needless to say, Alex's brother had to return home early, after a rather nasty allergic reaction.

"Are you planning to golf or are we just going to stand here?" Alex's questions into Emma's hair just as she returns from her trip down memory lane. She hits him again and then untangles herself from his arms.

Now, Emma knows how to golf – she grew up in California, it was inevitable. But after the bowling incident, which turned out to be more successful in retrospect, she decides to play down her superior mini-golf skills. As much for her own sake as for Alex's.

So her first attempt ends up being something of a, well, failure – plainly speaking. It barely makes it very far and bounces off of one of the railings which puts it into a terrible angle. She turns back to look at Alex with her patented _Don't say it _face before lining up for her next attempt.

Emma adjusts her grip three times before saying, "Could you just help me with this?" Alex raises both his eyebrows in surprise, but nods and walks over to her.

"You know, I'm not really a golf expert, Emma," he says, unashamed, but scratching the back of his neck nonetheless. "But um, you probably shouldn't grip it that tightly."

Emma looks up at him – he's standing two steps away from her, observing her technique. She cocks her head slightly in disbelief, wondering if his competitive edge is making an appearance yet again.

"Would you mind just showing me?" Emma asks, shaking her club at him to emphasize her point. Alex draws his eyebrows together, but nods, before leaning down into his own golfing position. He hits an imaginary ball before righting himself back into a standing position and shrugging, as if to say _There you go_.

Emma can't help herself from laughing. Alex smiles over at her, confused, "What?"

She raises her hands to her face to quell the laughter, not that it helps much, before responding. "Just get over here, you dork," she leans over to pull him to where she's standing. He still looks slightly confused but then Emma pulls his hand around her waist and he finally clues in, feeling the blood rush to his face.

"Oh. Right. Sorry," he says by her ear, adjusting his hands to cover hers on the golf club.

Emma smiles and leans back against him, "If you're going to take me out like we're still in high school, I at least want the full experience." Alex laughs and helps her to hit the ball. It lands in the hole, though his technique isn't as good as her own. She focuses on the feeling of Alex's hands on hers to avoid saying so out loud.

They continue in much the same way, ending the game with a tied score. Well, they're pretty sure it's tied, anyway. Unlike bowling, they had to keep their own score here and neither of them would say that they were fully focused on the game, in all honesty. So they called it a tie and moved on with their lives.

"You seriously don't eat at golf courses?" Alex asks, as they find themselves back in his car at the end of the night. He had bought himself a hot dog from the snack bar but Emma wouldn't touch a thing, even when he tried to use the fact that she ate pizza last time against her.

"I don't eat at _mini_-golf courses. You never know where my sister may be," she says, trying not to grimace at his terrible food choices, and failing miserably. Alex simply laughs.

"You're still on that," Emma nods as though that were obvious. "Well, she got him in the end, so whether she was behind that mishap or not, I don't think John would mind."

"You know she could have killed him right?" Alex just shrugs in response.

"Well, fine. Just remember, Mr. Knightley," she pauses for dramatic effect and he finds himself leaning forward. "I know what you're allergic to, too." Alex laughs again and uses his free hand to wrap around Emma's shoulders. They sit like that for a bit before either of them speak.

"You know, if you can do this," Emma points to Alex's hand on her shoulder, "And eat at the same time, I think you more than capable of eating and driving at the same time, too." Alex gives her his best sarcastic expression, "Someone's hungry."

Now, Emma laughs and shrugs out of his hand so she can face him. "Yes, so can we go or not?"

"I can't eat and drive and hold your hand at the same time," Alex reports, with a sort of smug smile on his face. "Besides, I'm almost done," to which Emma just rolls her eyes.

By the time they get back to Emma place, having picked her up a vegetarian wrap to tie her over, it's dark out. This time, Emma doesn't try to invite him in, preferring to simply sit down on one of the chairs on her front porch and getting him to join her.

"Thank you," she offers, when Alex has settled into the wicker chair beside her.

He shrugs, "The wrap was like $4.70, Emma, it's not a big deal."

She hits him in the shoulder, "Not that! Everything."

Alex raises an eyebrow, "The golfing was like $20 bucks so it's no big deal, but I guess if you factor in gas…" his voice patters out when she raises a hand to cover his mouth. "Shut up, Alex."

He nods, then somehow manages to pull her out of her chair and onto his. Emma laughs, "Alex, I'm eating."

"If I'm expected to eat and drive, which is very dangerous by the way, Miss Woodhouse, then you can be expected to sit here and eat at the same time. It shouldn't be too strenuous," she hits him lightly, and he just wraps his arm more closely around her.

They chat quietly for a good while, Emma's wrap soon gone, the wrapping on the chair beside them. When she begins nodding off on Alex's shoulder, he takes that as his cue to leave.

"You need your rest, Emma," he tells her when she protests his leaving. She pouts up at him so he leans down and kisses her cheek, letting his lips linger a bit longer than necessary. Emma smiles, in spite of herself, and catches his hand before he leaves.

"You're moving a bit fast, there, Alex."

He sighs, though he's smiling, "It's very hard to move slowly with you, Emma."

She positively beams up at him, releasing his hand and letting him go. That night, she goes to sleep with that same smile still gracing her lips.

* * *

Emma wonders if Alex is always this childish when he plans dates or whether it has something to do with him taking her, specifically, out on dates. She prefers to accept the latter.

It's only a few days after the second date when Alex asks her for a third one. Unsurprisingly, he chooses another location that was rare for dates between two adults: an aquarium. Emma rolls her eyes at him when they arrive but she knows she's also doing a terrible job of hiding her smile.

They're the oldest ones in the building that don't have children with them but Emma doesn't care. She barely notices as Alex's excitement is enough like a child's that she doesn't feel that old. And his hand in hers kind of mulls out everything else around them.

"Wait, look at this one," he says, with subdued excitement as he drags her over to look at the sea turtles. He's looking up at it with absolute concentration and awe and Emma finds herself laughing.

He turns to look at her with his brow furrowed, "Am I boring you?" The usual snarky comment comes off lacking and she knows he's genuinely worried that he made the wrong call here.

"No," he seems to breathe a bit easier at this response. "I'm just wondering if I should leave you two alone," she adds with a straight face, as she gestures towards one of the turtles. He laughs at her comment and then walks towards a different tank.

The ease with which they move across the room is something special, at least to Emma. She used to think that any time she spent with Alex had to be very loud, since they were always arguing or making each other laugh. Maybe this was the difference between their friendship and them dating, the fact that she could lean against his shoulder looking at jelly fish and not need to fill the silence with sound. She decides it isn't worth dissecting, really, because she could miss out on simply enjoying it.

"Sorry this isn't half as entertaining as our last date," Alex breaks the silence, as he removes his hand from hers, preferring to wrap it around her shoulders. She looks up at him and realizes that he is worried again, worried that he messed up and that that could somehow change something between them. "No, don't," she says, shaking her head.

He raises an eyebrow, "Don't, what?"

"Don't act so afraid that this is going to change anything." She turns to face him head on and his arm falls from around her. There's a beat before Alex says anything.

"I'm not following."

She groans and puts her head in her hands, before looking back at him and replying. "This is why I didn't want to date."

His face falls, "We can go back to being friends –"

"No!" she practically shouts in the middle of the aquarium. She barely takes a second to read his surprised face in the tinted blue lighting before she's talking again, "I want to be with you, Alex. I want you to come over to my condo and watch stupid movies with me. I want to go out for dinner with you because we're tired of each other's cooking. I want to hold your hand in front of my dad when he gives you the _Take care of my daughter_ talk. I want all of that, but I don't want this." She gestures at him, looking extremely displeased and exasperated.

Alex just keeps staring at her because he doesn't get it. "How is _that_ different from _this_?" he asks, using his hand to gesture the aquarium around them.

"It's not _this_ that bothers me," Emma motions at the tank behind her full of blow-fish. "It's _this_," she points to his face because she doesn't understand what he doesn't understand.

"You want me…to fix my face?"

"You're impossible," she groans. Alex grabs her hand and pulls her into a more secluded hallway of the aquarium. "Emma, please use your words this time."

She rolls her eyes at him and raises a hand to her forehead. "You need to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop acting like this is going to fall apart if you take the wrong step!" she manages to emphasize her point without actually shouting, which is an improvement.

"I'm just worried that –" he starts, before she interrupts him. "I know you're worried, that's the problem." She sighs before letting herself continue, "That's why I didn't want to go on these dates. I don't want you to feel like every minute is about proving yourself. I like you, Alex, more than a lot, and I want to be charmed and swept off my feet as much as the next girl. But I'm not just some girl –"

"I know that."

"Then don't act like we haven't know each other our whole lives. Don't act like you're worried that I'm bored when you know how to tell that I'm not. Stop pretending that you can't read my thoughts just by looking at me. You're my best friend, Alex, you know me better than anyone. You don't need to date me to know how I feel about you."

Alex looks at her like he's trying to understand what she's saying. Then he sighs, taking a step forward in order to rest his forehead on hers.

"I quite enjoy dating you, you know," he says, moving his hands down her arms.

Emma laughs in response, moving to wrap her arms around his neck, "It isn't so bad, I guess." She breathes, wishing she could explain to him how she felt any more than she already had. "Just...trust us, okay? And maybe plan a normal date for once."

Now he laughs and moves to press a kiss to her forehead, "That staying in watching bad movies idea doesn't sound half bad."

"You're going to make us order-in greasy take out, aren't you?" she asks as she tightens her grip around his neck and pulls him in to hug her.

"Is there any other way to do a movie marathon?" he questions back, as he wraps his arms tightly around her waist. Alex can practically feel her roll her eyes in his neck but she just grips him tighter.

They stay like that for a while before continuing their tour of the aquarium. The ease that their other dates had seemed to find a place in this one as well as they walked along, talking about work and their friends. At the end of the date, they pick up some gelato and he drives her home.

"We should go to the zoo next," Emma offers as she unlocks the door to her condo.

"What happened to no more dates?" he jokes as he moves to lean against her now open door frame.

"No more dates where you worry so much," she says as she pulls her hair out of its braid. Emma knows that Alex won't concede to her on the 'no dating' idea, he's too traditional for that kind of thing. So she compromises, something she's not quite used to. But, to be fair, she isn't completely used to dating Alex yet either, and as easy as that has seemed so far, she knew it was a change that came with a lot of baggage too.

"You have high standards, Miss Woodhouse," he lets out a deep breath. She makes a face at him.

"I guess I have my work cut out for me, then," he smirks up at her. "Good night, Emma," he says, before taking a step towards his car.

"Wait, what?" Emma demands, pulling him back to her door by the back of his jacket. Alex turns around to meet her eyes and looks at her with confusion. "I said, good night?"

"Yes, I was here for that."

"Your question then was…?"

"Do you have any idea what today is?" she stares at him as though he must be kidding her. He's still confused, though.

"It's April tw–"

"Not the date, Alex! The _day_, do you know what _day_ it is?"

He stares at her like he's severely worried about her mental stability. Emma scoffs, "How many dates have we been on Alex?"

"Three," he states, slowly, before catching onto her drift. He smiles lightly, "We've been on three dates, Emma."

"Yes, and what do people _do_ at the end of the third date?"

He scoffs now and crosses his arms, saying "Are you really going to be that old-fashioned?" And the murderous look of pure shock that spreads on her face is the best thing he's seen in ages. He expects her to explode at him, but she just keeps looking at him and blinking. The laughter that burns to pop out of him is reaching dangerous heights when she finally speaks.

"I have been playing by your rules for weeks, Alex. Are you honestly going to pull this on me right now?" she looks like she really wants to kick him so he takes a slight step back.

"They aren't rules, Emma. Helpful suggestions, maybe. And didn't you say, we aren't normal people?" he's half-laughing now and he knows the rest of it will probably burst out of him soon enough.

"I am going to punch you, Alex Knightley. And then, you are going to kiss me," Emma says.

"Nah, the lighting isn't right here. Bad for the eyes, I hear." Then he's grabbing her fist before it collides with his shoulder and pulling her into a much awaited kiss.

It's the most awkward angle possible and he's still a bit afraid to let go of her fist, but neither of them really care. Eventually, things seem to fall into place, and Alex wraps his arm around her waist to help adjust their slight height difference. She manages to steal her hand back and then rests both of them comfortably on his neck.

What feels like hours later, Alex pulls back because he knows he can't let this go any further just now. But he's smiling all the same.

"Worth the wait," Emma breathes out as she pulls back a bit herself. He's beaming now, wondering if this was all really happening.

Then her fist collides with his shoulder and, once again, the pain reminds him of the reality of the situation. "You didn't have to be such a smart ass about it," she says, her own smile lighting up her face.

He smiles back, in spite of the pain, and cups her face in his hands. "I meant it. They aren't rules, not for us. I want to take it slow but it's still you and me; we don't need to follow anyone else's traditions."

"Will you come inside, then?"

"No," she rolls her eyes, "but only because it's late and we both still have work tomorrow. Movies and take-out next time, okay?"

Emma nods in his hands before leaning in and brushing her lips against his again, "Okay."

In spite of everything, Emma still wasn't really convinced that Alex meant their relationship was now their own world, one that didn't rely on outdated traditions. Not until their fourth date, when they stayed up until two am watching cheesy comedies and woke up the next morning still on Emma's couch. It may have also helped that the accidental sleepover turned into a full weekend spent in her condo. Or that on Monday, she overhears his conversation with his mom where he referred to her as his girlfriend.

Little things, but still, Emma knew that was how Alex was about their relationship. Wanting every little thing to fall perfectly into place. And, to be completely honest, she found that a lot of things between them were worth the wait, and she knew that they were both in it for the long run anyway.

* * *

**A/N:** Well there's another long one for you that I hope you all made it through! If you can't tell, when I said I was adding something in, I was referring to their second date (which was originally only a short recap paragraph), so if the pacing seems off it's because I added that much later than the rest. Otherwise, I hope to hear from you on what you thought of this installment, and I might have another surprise/question for you next chapter - so keep an eye out!


	8. Life doesn't work like that

**A/N: **To my reviewers, infinite thanks! It's nice to have feedback, always makes me feel like I'm on the right track. So thank you to toffeema and fwentworth, glad you both enjoyed it. To JRB - I don't have twitter but I was following the Vegas trip (how dare they, really) and some of it may inspire future fics! Otherwise, thank you for such amazing commentary, I feel very honoured to have my chapters described as "perfect" haha.

Now on to the new chapter: So this started out with some really good intentions...and then fell down a hill of confusion into a pit of angst. Not really sure how or where that came from but it's about time we had some I think? I don't even know how to explain this so I'll let it speak for itself.

**FYI:** More alcohol in this chapter (because I apparently enjoy writing drunk people?), it's a lot stronger in this chapter than the last one (hence, the angst) so just keep that in mind if you read it, please.

My ownership of any of this is limited to the crazy ideas I have in my head and does not include any of the characters, their likenesses, or the book/webseries. (sigh)

* * *

_We have different definitions of happiness_

Alex curses his good upbringing when he gets up from the couch to answer his door. If it weren't for the politeness ingrained in his system, he would have told whoever was behind it to simply go away. Well, he probably would have used some more choice words than that. He swears though, if it's someone trying to sell him something or "enlighten" him, he may end up delivering those choice words after all.

Instead, he finds Emma at his door, holding a fast food bag and a six pack of Coors Light. Even though Alex should have really expected her to show up, Emma believed she could fix everything after all, he was still surprised to see her.

"If you're not going to invite me in, could you at least take this, I feel awful just holding it," she makes a face at both the beer and the fast food, holding them out towards him. Alex isn't sure why, maybe because he was tired of sulking alone in his apartment for the last three days, or maybe because listening to Emma's incessant chatter will drown out his own thoughts, but he lets her in.

"Thank you," Emma says cheerily, entering his apartment, slipping off her heels, and dropping what she was carrying onto his kitchen counter. He follows her into his small kitchen – it was more of a kitchenette really, but it did the job – grabbing one of the beers out of the packaging.

"Why are you here, Emma?" he asks, taking the bottle opener off the fridge and breaking the seal on one of the beer bottles. For someone who was complaining about holding the bag earlier, Emma seems all too comfortable taking out the burger and fries she'd purchased and putting them on a plate. Alex figures she was using this as an excuse to avoid his question.

"Emma," he whines, as she continues to ignore him and turns to wash her hands in the sink, acting like she had just touched biochemical waste. "You're going to have to talk to me sometime," he reminds her, picking a fry off the plate and putting it in his mouth, wondering absentmindedly when he last ate. After the first, he reaches for another fry and Emma swats his hand away from the plate. "I believe that's my line, Mr. I-don't-pick-up-my-phone-even-when-my-best-friend-calls-me-six-times-in-a-row," she states in a huff, picking up the plate of food and the beers before heading back into the living area of his apartment.

Alex follows her, mostly because she's still holding onto his food and he was finally realizing how hungry he was. Emma placed the plate, some napkins, and the beers down on his coffee table, nudging each of them slightly until they were perfectly aligned. Alex wondered what had her so worked up, she only got so antsy about stuff like this when she was truly worried.

"You okay?" he asks, as he sees her turning each of the beer bottles around so that their labels faced her. Alex almost immediately regrets his decision when she turns to look at him with both anger and worry etched in her eyes.

"Stop stealing my lines! I'm here for you, not the other way around," Emma whines, slouching into his couch. Alex falls into the seat beside her, grabbing the plate and putting it on his lap, before continuing, "Why are you here for me? Am I missing something?"

Emma purses her lips at him, "Alex, I know about you and Amanda, you can cut the tough guy act."

He diverts his eyes from her gaze, focusing on shuffling the food around on his plate – suddenly feeling a lot less hungry. "It's not much of an act, I've been through break ups before, you know?" he comments, before returning the half full plate to the coffee table and sipping more of his awful beer.

"I know. She just…meant a lot to you, one way or another," Emma replied, absentmindedly pulling at the cap of one of the beer bottles. "Here," Alex says, pulling the beer out of her grasp and popping off the lid with his bottle opener that he'd brought from the kitchen. He moves to hand the drink back to her before he fully realizes what he's doing. "Hey…"

Emma reaches for the beer and raises an eyebrow when he jerks it away from her.

"What?"

"You aren't allowed to drink this stuff."

She snorts, "Alex, you've seen me drink before."

He rolls his eyes, pulling the beer back again from her grasping fingers, "Yeah, at parties, maybe. But you can't just drink illegally in my apartment."

Emma ignores his request, however, grabs another bottle from the pack and expertly opens it after stealing the opener from his side of the table in one fluid motion. She takes a sip with a triumphant grin on her lips as Alex groans and leans further into the couch. "Relax, Alex, I'm practically 21, and you have that extra room here for me to stay in just in case I get drunk, right?" He doesn't quite have an argument for that, outside of the fact that being 21 and being two months shy of 21 were not the same thing, so he simply lifts his hands in exasperation. Emma beams, adjusting herself slightly on the couch, and Alex realizes that he had unwillingly put himself into a position where he was now required to converse with her.

As a result, he does the respectable thing. He pretends to be falling asleep.

Emma hands are on his shoulders in a matter of seconds and she's practically shouting, "Oh no you don't, Alex! You still owe me an explanation."

He removes her hands from his shoulders and furrows his brow, "For what?" Emma chugs the majority of her beer before replying. "The six phone calls and two messages I've left you. And that's just today!"

Alex groans before drinking a bit more himself. "You already deduced that I am newly single, why do you think I wasn't up to picking up my phone every time it rang?"

He sees a gleam return to Emma's eyes, "So you admit that the break-up is bothering you?" As her comment registers in his head, Alex picks up the beer bottle, wondering if there was something stronger in it than alcohol since something was making his brain seem so muddled. But, then again, it was Emma – it wasn't like she didn't always get what she wanted.

So he groans in response, "Yes, Emma, I admit that I'm, quite naturally, upset that my girlfriend dumped me. Are you happy now?"

On her part, Emma at least had enough decency to look shocked, "Of course I'm not happy about that Alex! Why would you even think that?" Now the shock was forming something different on her face – she was beginning to look upset.

But Alex just rolls his eyes, "Emma, everyone knows you don't like her. You could hardly be around Amanda for more than five minutes before the two of you were at each other's throats."

"That was as much my fault as it was hers," Emma complains, stealing a couple fries off of the plate that he abandoned, grimacing at the unfortunate taste. "Besides, she may have been barely tolerable, but she somehow managed to make you happy."

"Gee, thanks, for noticing." Alex finishes his first beer and places it on his coffee table, noticing the other empty beside it. How had he missed Emma finishing a whole bottle of beer when she could barely stand to drink the stuff?

"It doesn't matter; we aren't here to talk about how I felt about her. I'm just hoping you'll get drunk enough so I actually get to see you cry," she winks at him, dropping another empty bottle onto the table. Alex has to blink to confirm that she was actually drinking the beer, since she seemed to be throwing it back as though it were water.

"Yeah, that's likely," he finally responds, rolling his eyes. If Emma thought ridiculing him would help him get his mind off of his ex-girlfriend, she was in for quite the surprise.

Suddenly, realizing that Emma was beyond capable of taking care of herself inside his modest apartment, Alex stood up, stretching slightly. "Actually, I'm heading to bed. You know where everything is, right?"

Emma almost looks like she wants to laugh, before pulling him back onto the couch by the hand. He doesn't even vocalize any protest, he knows how fruitless that was with her. "You're quite the comedian tonight, Alex," she hiccups slightly, "but you are not getting out of this. Period."

He leans off the edge of the couch with his head in his hands, "What exactly is _this_, anyway? All you've done so far is fatten me up," he points at the plate of fast food, "ridicule me, and try to get me drunk?"

"Wallowing in self-pity is not Emma approved, Alex," she says, smiling through her newly coined term. "Getting you drunk enough to actually talk about your problems? Now that's something I can do_ and_ approve of, more or less."

"I don't need alcohol to talk about my problems, Emma."

"A – thank you for willfully admitting you have problems and b – need I remind you of the SIX missed calls and TWO messages?" She drops her third finished bottle on the table and pulls the fast food plate onto her lap, picking at the fries gingerly.

Alex turns to face her on the couch, letting his arm fall behind her head. "Okay then, try me," to which Emma rolled her eyes before grabbing him another beer. "You are in no way drunk enough to be honest with me."

"Really? Because you look fantastic tonight," surprisingly, Emma blushes slightly, hiding it by moving to brush her hair out of her face. "Honest enough for you?"

Emma returns the plate to the table, most of the fries having disappeared, before responding. "Stating facts is hardly what I had in mind, Alex," and he can't help it, he laughs. She joins him, leaning back against the couch, and slightly into him as well. And it must be all the alcohol in his system, which is admittedly more than a single beer, because he finds himself leaning into her too.

"You're supposed to drink it," she says, pointing to the beer in his lap. Alex was more focused on the beer in her hand though, seeing as it was her fourth of the last half hour. But at this point, he knows she won't listen to his advice, so he just lets her keep drinking – lets his own guilt settle for another day.

Alex still doesn't drink his beer though, he already feels himself getting drunk (or maybe past it?) so he takes that as a warning sign to at least slow down, if nothing else. Emma doesn't seem to notice his stopping though, "So what happened, exactly?" And even though he doesn't feel like talking about Amanda, even though he doesn't particularly want Emma to get her way, Alex also realizes that he hasn't talked about this at all yet, with anyone. And it was burning in him to get out.

"She's moving to New York," he says, surprised at the sound of his own voice. Surprised that he could sound so casual about something that broke his heart.

"Why would she leave California for New York?" Emma asks, in genuine confusion. It was a shared Knightley and Woodhouse family trait that they believed their families lived in the best corner of the world and anything else was hardly worth their time. It wasn't arrogance, merely tradition. A tradition Alex hadn't felt like breaking for a girl who didn't even bother to ask him to.

"Her father's company is set up all along the Western coast. She thinks wherever she establishes herself here, someone will accuse her of riding her father's coat tails, and she doesn't want that," he shrugs.

"That's idiotic," Alex snorts, "I'm serious. The best way to succeed in life is to use all the tools you have at your disposal. Throwing away all of those opportunities is hardly the best way to start a meaningful career."

Alex isn't sure he agrees completely with her on that. It wasn't as though it was any of their faults that they grew up in specific families, so distancing themselves from that was a choice they were all free to make. But he understood where her head was at; he knew of Emma's childhood dream to help people, though she had yet to turn that into a sound business strategy. Nevertheless, Emma would use her father's name with good intentions, which made a lot more sense to her than throwing it away in order to succeed on her own.

So he sighs and says, "Well, you aren't Amanda," to which she scoffs and replies, "Thank god for that," before practically finishing her fourth beer. For the first time, he sees her grimace after she swallows, before shuffling the bottle onto the table with the others.

"I think you're plan backfired," he reports, gesturing to her many empty bottles.

"What do you mean?" she asks, confused, brushing her hair out of her face.

Alex chuckles, "Well, _I'm_ not the one who ended up drunk."

She narrows her eyes at him before understanding dawns on her. "I am not drunk, Alex!" she responds, smacking him lightly on the knee. The motion brings them closer together somehow and Alex wonders if she's not the only one who's had too much to drink.

"Mhm, would you like to try the walking a straight line test then?" he asks, raising his eyebrow slightly. His hand seems to move of its own volition, curling onto her shoulder, his fingertips brushing the skin just shy of her blouse.

Emma laughs and pulls her legs up onto the couch, her knees resting somewhat on the pillow and somewhat in Alex's lap. "I'm underage, I don't think they'd be checking if I was drunk, I think they'd just care if I even had a sip." Her words sober him up a bit and he drops his arm from around her as she turns to face him. Admittedly, he didn't have much of a response to that.

"So why don't you just go to New York with her?" Emma asks, and it takes him far longer than it should have to remember what she's talking about.

"I couldn't leave here. It's home," he gestures towards his apartment, which had, unfortunately, seen better days. Emma laughs, "Says the guy who has traveled most of North America with his family."

But Alex shakes his head, "That's different, I always know I'm coming back then. This would be a permanent change." He may love extreme sports and sight-seeing, but living somewhere else was a totally different story. Just leaving for university had been an odd change for him, and at least then he'd been in the same state. Packing up his entire life and moving somewhere completely different, that just wasn't his style.

"You could like it out there, especially if you're with someone you care about," Emma says, with a kind of dreamy naivety he would expect from his match-making friend. But she also wasn't looking him in the eye just then, which Alex thought was slightly strange.

"Life doesn't work like that, Emma. Besides, I'd miss too many things."

Emma shifts slightly closer towards him, almost crowding the small space they were occupying on the couch. His arm is back to resting on the back of the couch but now he has to physically stop himself from wrapping it around her again.

"What's there to miss?"

He blinks, scratching the back of his head with his other hand before letting out a deep breath. "I don't know. Everything: the beach, my parents, John, you, your family, the food…" he trails off because he sees Emma straighten slightly.

"You'd miss me?" she asks, and there's a teasing undertone to it, like she's not sure how he'll react to the question. But there's also a kind of confusion and unease in her voice, which is making him confused too.

"You're kind of important," Alex replies, in a joking tone that doesn't fully hide his true meaning. As he says it, he moves to push a lock of her hair behind her ear and he's so focused on it that he doesn't see the expression on her face. If he had been paying attention, what happened next might not have seemed so surprising.

But, surprised or not, Alex Knightley suddenly found himself being kissed by his best friend. Emma is pressing against him with a certain hesitation in her lips, which is potentially more surprising than the kiss itself because Emma doesn't hesitate about anything. But once Alex lets himself blink and fully registers what is happening, he begins reacting to the feeling of her lips on his. He doesn't hesitate or overthink what's happening, he just wraps his hands around her waist and pulls her closer towards him because he needs her to keep kissing him for as long as she is physically capable.

Emma's uncertainty seems to evaporate as she moves her arms up to wrap around Alex's neck, pulling herself closer to him until she was practically in his lap. Alex's hands manage to find their way under her shirt, his palms pressed lightly against her back. The kiss stops being something innocent and becomes harder, more desperate, and Alex is sure they're going to have to break apart soon for air. So as Emma's arms unlock from around his neck and her hands begin working their way down his torso, Alex reaches up to cup her face with one hand, slowing down the kiss to an agonizing speed. Emma retaliates by riding his shirt up tentatively, smiling at his reaction when he breathes in sharply to the feeling of her fingertips on his skin. In a motion so quick he didn't even know he was capable of it, Alex slips out of his T-shirt and throws it somewhere into the apartment, returning his lips to Emma's immediately because he can't seem to function without their soft pressure on his own.

Eventually, Emma's hand finds its way to his shoulder and she's pushing back from him because she can't breathe. They sit there with their foreheads pressed together and Emma breathing heavily for less than five seconds before Alex begins kissing the curve of her jaw because he's too drunk to stop himself. Emma releases a giggle that's only forced out of her because of the alcohol in her system. Then his lips begin tracing down her neck and Emma realizes she's probably not going to get the chance to catch her breath after all.

"Alex," she breathes out when he finds a particularly sensitive spot on her collarbone. At the sound, Alex stops everything he's doing and pulls back from her. He blinks, looking at her but not really seeing her face. When he manages to focus, Alex notices the crease forming on her brow coupled with the blush on her cheeks and the bruising of her lips and then he's jumping off the couch like he's been hit with an electric shock.

Alex begins pacing the small width of his apartment, feeling like he wants to both scream and pull his hair out while also wanting to crash into bed and pretend this never happened. On one of his strides back to the couch, he sees Emma readjust herself so she's properly seated with her feet on the ground. He can tell that's she's sufficiently rattled too.

"Alex. Stop pacing," she finally says, not meeting his eyes but with a forceful enough tone of voice that it gets him to stop anyway. But once he's stopped, he doesn't know what to do. So he just stands there waiting for her speak again.

When she doesn't, he suddenly finds his voice. "We're drunk. That's all it is."

Emma shakes her head, "Alex, we're not _that_ drunk." He laughs in response. Then, he contradicts her, "Emma, there's more alcohol in my system right now than anything else." Emma looks at him skeptically, so he continues. "I drank a whole bottle of whiskey before you even showed up, and I couldn't tell you the last time I had a full meal," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand because he isn't exactly proud of that fact.

In reaction, Emma closes her eyes and breathes with his lips pursed. The look makes Alex realize how overwhelmed he was by how much he wants to, no, _needs_ to kiss her again. But he sets his jaw and balls his hands into fists instead, though the thing he was mad at wasn't exactly something he could physically fight.

Then, suddenly, Emma's on her feet, albeit a little shakily, but she's standing not far from him. "Then kiss me again," and she looks so confused, like the words she's saying aren't even her own. Alex can practically feel his jaw popping from the strain he was putting it through but he shakes his head. "Emma, I'm not going…we can't…this was a mistake."

She puts her hand to the side of her head like it hurts and her confusion visibly deepens, "What do you mean?"

Alex runs his hands down his face, "We just can't."

"Why?"

"Because we're drunk –"

"I'm not drunk, Alex!" Emma shouts at him, meeting his eyes for the first time. He can tell from the look in her eyes that she believes her own words, but he knows her. He's seen her drunk, he knows what she's like. So he just shakes his head in response to her outburst.

"Well I'm heartbroken _and_ drunk, so I'm not going to do it," he says, maintaining eye contact even though his restraint is weakening every minute.

"You're not…she's not even worth…Jesus Christ, Alex," Emma's hands are moving frantically and her face is getting red like she's flustered. "For the love of God, if you're going to argue with me, put your stupid shirt on!" And Alex looks down to notice he still wasn't wearing one. Noticing it on the floor by her feet, Alex realizes that he would have to move over to where Emma was standing to get his shirt back. So he held his breath and tried to grab it as quickly as possible. But when he rights himself after retrieving his shirt, Emma's fingers are curled around his belt loop and she's pulling him towards her. Then, they're kissing again and Alex can't make himself stop because he hasn't felt this good in days. He was so tired of being hurt and sad about someone who turned out to not be worth it in the end. All he wanted was to keep kissing Emma and forget that anything else mattered.

But then he starts tasting the alcohol in her mouth and he breaks the kiss. But instead of storming off and trying to sort out the craziness in his head, Alex pulls her into a hug, lifting her off the ground and letting her bury her face in his neck.

Emma hiccups slightly before saying, "I just want you to be happy, Alex," and he tightens his arms around her waist. Alex feels her breathing slow down and knows she's fallen asleep, the day and the alcohol having taken their toll on her. So he lies her down on the bed in his spare room, making sure she was comfortable before shutting off the light. Then, he grabbed himself two pain killers before calling it a night himself.

In the morning, Alex found out how awful hangovers were on Emma. She didn't stumble out of bed until four in the afternoon, and even then she was just asking him for medicine. He obliged, of course, and also made her some of the lightest food he had in his apartment. And even though Alex felt like he had somehow finally gotten over Amanda, or at least what she'd done to him, he still couldn't make himself eat too much. He had a feeling that that now had more to do with his own guilt than his alleged heartbreak.

Around nine, Emma asked him if she could stay for another night. She was feeling better but didn't see the point of leaving when it was already so late. Alex didn't have a problem with it, in fact he felt like he owed her that and more for his actions.

"It's weird," Emma says over dinner that night, "I remember bringing the beers to your apartment, to get_ you_ drunk funnily enough, but I don't remember much after that."

Alex looks at her for a second, as if to determine whether or not she was being honest. But then he realizes that he really doesn't want to know, and just decides to trust that this is how things would return to normal. So he took her comment for whatever it was, shrugged and replied, "You didn't miss much."

* * *

Well, yup. I still don't know what to say about this so review? Maybe?

Also, I'm having a bit of writer's block where this fic is concerned. I still have another chapter to go that I've been working on, but otherwise I haven't been able to come up with many new ideas. It might be because I'm just too busy, or because I haven't had anything new to work with since the hiatus, so if I don't update again until the show comes back in February, I deeply apologize!


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